Cubism
by Bailamos
Summary: Yaoi. SephXCloud Cloud is angsting about killing Sephiroth and sorting out his memories. Please R & R
1. One

All that remains of my tattered soul and my worn out body is a stain. An unholy scar on the surface of the planet that shouldn't be mine. If there were only a way to go back to that fated day, that cursed day that the Earth Mother wept in her garden. That was the day that Destiny himself feared to turn the page of His Book of Fate. But I don't believe in fate any more. If there was anything such as fate, I would have been able to pull myself from His orbit. The way His eyes were, I remember them. They have projected themselves into my consciousness so that I will never ever forget what I did. Those eyes, I weep at the very memory of them, and yes, now they are only a memory. They were like stained glass, and just as sanctimonious. Others saw in Him the eyes of a tragedy. Only insanity and cruelty dwelt in them. But I know that's not true. And I watched as He, the God of my dreams, thundered to the ground in glorious death. And I was not a shaman, but a fool, and all of my demons were set rampant upon the world. But His eyes weren't like I remembered them to be. Transcendent power lurked within them, yes. And there was always the mocking derision that was only truth. But never in my life did I expect to see the demons of remorse swirl like chaos in those eyes. He was the crisis from the skies. And Fate, oh how I loathe it, told me that on that day I was the One. No blade ever sang the way it did on that doomed day. And I watched as it all crashed down and shattered His eyes like stained glass. I saw as confusion and . . . fear dawned in His eyes and replaced the things about Him that everyone hated. If at all possible, He was nothing more than a lost child. Spirits tore from the skin of the earth to right the wrongs He had done. I now wonder if anything He ever did was wrong. How could it be? The angels knew this to be true, and they wept because they knew He was still loved. And they wept because they knew that I was the bearer of the burdensome love.  
  
"Cloud!!! You can't stay in there forever!! You'll kill yourself if you do this!"  
  
And only now do I realize that, yes, His heinous acts were for the best. This planet is filth. Plagued by fools and insignificant rats. What's worse is that they wont leave me alone. I suppose to them He was concealed in darkness. None of them could see past what He did and look at who He was. The blackness that my angel was clothed in bled into His surroundings so that they could not see anything at all. But in Him I saw the whisper of an angel, the breath of my nirvana. I wish my life were just a shadow; I wish I were a ghost. Or better yet, a puppet. It was easy doing what He told me. My mind was never plagued with meaningless decisions or petty worries. Let the Gods do as they please and follow their commands. I would drown the world in my blood now if He asked me to, if He was alive to ask me. The world would be so much simpler that way. And to think that the only miniscule peon to mourn Him will be me.  
  
"Cloud this is suicide!"  
  
Suicide? If I thought my life mattered that much I would have ended my unholy existence as soon as I came to my senses. The only thing that keeps me alive now is the knowledge that I will be alive to love Him. I might be the only one that does. And I know that I do love Him more than one human should be allowed to love anything. My only discrepancy is the idea that maybe I didn't always feel this way. No, I always loved Him. And I remember in some dark recesses of my mind that yes, He loved me as well. But was that really me? Was that my body that He would push into with such reverence? It was reverence, I know that. Almost as if He were afraid to touch me, if indeed that was me. But I was the only one He would touch that way. I was the only one He would touch at all, I think. No, there were others. They were born only to follow, they may as well have been deaf and blind. They adored Him to no end, and they would plead with Him. He would touch them, briefly and devoid of any passion or emotion. Is that the way He touched me? Did I beg him? Or was I begged? Fragments of memories dance in my mind like broken glass. Yes, like broken glass shards that impale my mentality and my soul and my body. I remember Him and the way I was amazed when He would kiss the back of my neck in public. He did love one of us; I just don't know which one.  
  
In Nibelheim, at the inn. He stood with His face plastered to the window and watched outside. I followed His eyes and saw nothing there. Looking around quickly and noting that we were in solitude with only each other I embraced Him in the circle of my arms. He did not move. Not a twitch or a blink or a sigh. I was heedless of His fate; he must have already known. I looked up at the clouds that His eyes wouldn't focus on and saw that their bellies were swollen with rain. My reflection seemed so dim in the glass. I told Him I loved Him and let my lips wander over the flesh on His neck. Marble still and glacial cold was what I got in response. Had He been angry with me? Was I not wanted just then, was I not wanted at all? I told Him I needed Him. Nothing. His eyes reflected the glass and I saw the clouds and my own reflection in them. Had He even heard me? I called His name and shook Him gently. He blinked then, once, told me I should get some sleep because we'd be heading out early. No emotion in that tone to indicate that He felt anything for me. I asked Him to come to bed and He complied and I pulled Him into the room and His eyes were still fixed on the raven dark clouds. As soon as I turned Him away He held my face and looked into my eyes. It never ceases to amaze me how beautiful He was. There are no words to describe Him. I kissed Him, and I remember that He would barely allow it and would barely reciprocate. I memorized the way His eyes would flutter closed and how He would brush His gloved knuckles chastely against my forearm, and I remember the slight friction of kidskin and flesh. His lips would push gently against my own and I was always more urgent than I needed to be. I remember the heat of the moment as we joined together and I always wished that we could have the same blood. I wanted to know what it felt like to have His blood coursing through my veins. And everything was agonizingly slow; He took his time. No matter how many times we did this it always seemed as if He was considering His decision to be with me, yet He was always so possessive. His anger would seethe and fester inside Him if He knew I was with another. I told Him that He too had the right to be with other people. He was spiteful and He would lie with others. He did at Nibelheim. Was I that other person? The one who He shoved into the mattress and made the pleasure unbearable so that nothing would ever be the same? The one He would slide into to prove that He could; to prove he was capable of feeling? He was capable malice and jealousy. I think He wished that His lover would be jealous as well. But was I the object of that malice and used only as a tool to make someone bitter with envy? Or was I the one He loved and was afraid to tarnish with His own touch. I failed to discover His reasoning behind this, why He was so fearful of what He felt for me, or what He felt for Zack. The only thing I know was that it wasn't both of us, only one.  
  
Either way these memories that might not be mine serve only to deepen my love for Him. I guess that my love is so intense that it serves to compensate for the hatred people feel for Him.  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
But I might not be the only one who sees daily the way He fell and I may not be the only one whose eyes will never be dry again. All I see are blurred colors before me that morph into the gentle sweeping curve of an arm, or the flowing dance of silver. That voice that beckons to me now, that voice that so seldom spoke yet had the most compelling quality to it. This voice has not tried to deter me from my apparent madness yet. Perhaps he regrets what happens. Similar in ways I cannot understand. They have the same hands, the same exotic slant to the eye. Both dark and brooding, secretive in a seductive way. They both loved once and will never make that mistake again; one by circumstance the other by choice.  
  
The creaking of the door should have startled me but I'm so jaded that I won't even deign myself to focus my eyes on that blur of red and black. I try to concentrate on something, but my body is so numb that I feel no physical discomfort. There were no distractions save for the prison of my mind. I should have barricaded the door; ex-turks seem to be able to pick locks very well. I want to say something scathing. I want him to hurt as badly I do, but I cannot will my vocal cords to work. I am glad he does not speak. I see his surreal form turn and I hear the distinct click of a locking door. But why does he care if I want to stay in this room for an eternity. If anyone, he should know about the atonement of sins. He was the one who blames the wretched workings of the earth upon himself. He's the one who lives in celibacy because he does not deserve the pious love of another.  
  
A memory that I know is mine clothes my brain like a shroud so that I cannot escape it. Yet another regret festers raw in my mind until I can't bear it anymore. But this time it wasn't as if my sword rained death upon a god, this time I just happened to see something that wasn't there. I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I had to tell him how alike they were. I should have stopped when the only response I got was blood red eyes burrowing into my own. The intensity of them made me look away, but I kept talking. I told him about how much I loved Sephiroth and how I was having a difficult time coping with the reality of it all. He looked angry then, in his own still and passive way. I only now realize why. A crusade to kill the only one you love; it truly is a ridiculous notion. Vincent, I know, was angry because he knew the endless anguish that accompanies the killing of a beloved. If only he had said something to me I might have stopped . . . no this is my fault, I can't blame him. If anything the seething anger like embers in his eyes should have stopped me. I saw it clearly and it didn't stop me from anything. It didn't stop me from killing Sephiroth. It didn't stop me from reaching out to touch Vincent's skin at that very moment. The anger in his eyes disappeared only because his eyelids shuddered closed at the touch of skin to skin. His cheek was smooth against my rough hands, and cool against my own fevered touch. His struggle was apparent, torn between reveling in the touch of another human or pulling away in disgust and fear. I pretended he was Sephiroth for only a brief moment and I stroked a high cheekbone with my calloused thumb and closed my eyes, imagining that my angel would touch me back and kiss me. I imagined I was in heaven, but my fantasies were quickly dissipated. Fine- boned fingers caught my wrist and squeezed the pressure points there until I withdrew my gesture. He turned and walked away quickly, not needing to offer any words of explanation or commiseration to someone as lowly and demeaning as I. I wish I hadn't touched him.  
  
Strange how I have enough time to replay that entire scenario in my head and he hasn't moved or said a word. "What?" My voice finally works, though it is hoarse and I didn't realize I could sound so cruel.  
  
Vincent's voice is muffled from behind his cape. "There are ways of overcoming this."  
  
I grind my teeth simply because Vincent's voice was so much like His. Both very soft-spoken that was somehow accompanied by a strange idleness of the tongue that caused words to flow together as one rather than be harshly articulated. They were both well educated and made the fact known through speech. They emphasized words the same way and paused during sentences the same way. I hated the fact that Vincent just had to barge in here and start talking like Him. The full meaning of those words cannot reach my ears.  
  
"Delusion can be a strong ally at times like these."  
  
I thought he would have said something like 'it's in the past, move on' or 'it is of no use to wallow in your own remorse and self-pity'. But Vincent knew what was consuming my soul; he'd experienced it too. "If I pretend he's alive it will kill me in the long run."  
  
Silence.  
  
Pretending He's alive will surely destroy me for as soon as I'm pulled out of my own charade the idea that I am eternally alone will send my soul plummeting straight to the depths of purgatory. But just because I could not imagine Him at my side doesn't necessarily mean I couldn't remember. But I wanted to know which memories were mine and which were not. I need to know if He loved me. I need to know.  
  
"If possible, I believe that your feelings for him are stronger than mine for Lucrecia."  
  
His voice was so soft and gentle, just like His voice. My eyes were blurry to begin with so I didn't notice when I started crying. The stinging hot tears down my face betrayed me and I felt my walls crumbling. And I felt a hand unbidden on my cheek drying my tears. I open my eyes and see the gleaming metal of a claw resting gently on my leg. I can't feel it though; my body is so numb I can't feel anything.  
  
"Tell me how I can help."  
  
"Just leave me alone." My voice wavers and a sob chokes me before I bury my face in my hands and cry. As I do, my body regains a sense of substantiality. My muscles ache. How long have I been sitting like this? I am overcome with a grief-induced nausea. I want to die. If anything let the angel of death come and take me away. Take me to Him and never make me leave His side. Let Him bear me away on His seraphim wings. Just don't let me sit here any longer. Any place but here and anytime but now. Just take me away. "Take me away."  
  
"Where shall I take you?"  
  
"I don't care. Anywhere. I can't stand it here with everyone. They don't understand. They're all ignorant bastards. He was right. They are sinners, they don't deserve anything." I sob uncontrollably and between my rambling and crying, forget to breathe.  
  
The hand resting on my cheek shifts slightly to lift my chin. Vincent wears gloves too, leather ones different from His yet exactly the same. I feel familiar texture of leather rubbing against my skin as I'm forced to gaze into those smoldering eyes.  
  
"Then we'll leave."  
  
I take a deep breath and feel ashamed at how good it feels to have fresh oxygen sucked into my starved lungs. I don't deserve to breathe. The air restores a sense of reason in my mind, though my sanity has long since been eaten away. Gathering my thoughts I dare myself to look back into those eyes were so much like His. "You'll come with me?"  
  
A nod. Simple as always, yet holds so much meaning for me that if my arms worked I would have embraced him. "Thanks." I let my head fall back against the wall exhausted. There is a hollow sound but I don't feel the impact.  
  
"If you're serious about it then we'll wait until tonight and then we can leave."  
  
"Thank you again, and yes, I'm serious." Don't leave please don't leave. I can't be alone right now. Anything to distract me. Anything anything anything. Of course he got up to leave but this time it was me who seized his wrist. I was gentler than he had been with me though. I gripped him just hard enough to feel his pulse beneath his skin, mostly because I'm not strong enough to do anything more. "Please . . . stay. I-I need to talk about something. I keep thinking about Him and wondering about things. I can't do it anymore. Please stay."  
  
"Very well. I'll stay."  
  
I feel his hands move to my sides, one flesh, and the other metal, one cold the other warm. Strange how that was just like Vincent; half of him is a cold, heartless bastard, the other half warm and caring. The floor beneath me becomes less supportive as I am drawn away from it. My body rebels at having to change positions as Vincent hauls me to my feet. My muscles spasm and my legs buckle. It doesn't last long before I am transported to the bed nearby. My body devoid of will or strength sags into the lumpy mattress and I close my eyes simply because I do not have the energy to keep them open any longer. I hear the sound of something falling to the ground and can't bring myself to look what it was. I later realize it must have been my boots.  
  
"What would you like to talk about then?" The mattress shifts a little as Vincent sits down beside me. I feel, for a moment, as if I'm falling and spinning out of orbit. I grip the sheets of the bed to steady myself.  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"I see. Tell me about your childhood, then; aside from the atrocities of ostracism that is. What did you do to pass the time?"  
  
I felt like laughing but I realize that I have somehow forgotten how. Vincent has uttered perhaps two cryptic phrases to me during the entire time we have known one another. He never seemed to understand mindless conversation before. I suppose we both must be desperate. I find the whole situation to be very amusing in a most cruel way. "I used to catch frogs a lot . . ." I push my palms into my temples at the memory. There aren't frogs anywhere near Nibelheim. There is an abundance of them at Gongaga. When I was in the Mako tank at Nibelheim, Zack told me /everything/ about him, mostly to keep us sane. It didn't work though; everything that he told me manifested itself as a memory in my mind. Everything from catching frogs at Gongaga to making love to the man I loved even if I was not loved back. These things have engrained themselves into my mind so that I think that they are my own experiences. I cannot distinguish between reality and delusion even now. "No. I guess that was Zack that did that." My breath sounds ragged as I inhale sharply. "I don't know what I used to do. I can't remember anything clearly."  
  
"Memory is overrated."  
  
I open my eyes then to look up at him. "Not when that's all you have. Not when you have memories that aren't even yours. I still don't know who I am. It was He that delivered me from the terror of my delusion. But why would He do that? Is there something that I, as Cloud, need to know? I think he was trying to let me know which one."  
  
No response. The silence is nearly tangible. I wait for some sort of acknowledgement of my presence. " . . .Which one?"  
  
"Me or Zack."  
  
" . . .What about you?"  
  
I sigh and the exhalation of air makes my sides ache. "I don't know which one of us He loved."  
  
"You don't?"  
  
I shake my head and wince. Gods, everything hurts. Everything aches.  
  
"I was under the impression that you two were lovers."  
  
I fling my arm across my eyes. No pain there, I still can't feel my arms. "I remember Him as my lover. But I don't know if those are my memories or not. I need to know, Vincent. I'll die if I don't know."  
  
"Surely some one remembers."  
  
He was so secretive about His love life though. He was a veritable black widow of romance; just short of eating those who He slept with to destroy the evidence. He was close to so few people. I rack my mind and catalogue all the people that might have known about His personal affairs. Zack was dead. Perhaps he told Aeris of his possible relationship with the general. But Aeris was dead. Hojo would know. But he's dead. Rufus or Scarlet might have done some eavesdropping. But they're dead too. Tseng was a trusted associate of Sephiroth's. Too bad he's dead. "They're all dead. It almost seems like He destroyed all traces of His personal life. Maybe He regretted being with me, or Zack. Whoever it was."  
  
"And it's really that important to you? I feel compelled to remind you that enlightenment can be the swiftest path to destruction. I'm sure Sephiroth could attest to that as well."  
  
My anger deadens before it even manages to lodge itself in my mind. If I could will my body to move I know I would do something regrettable. As it was, the remark about my angel hurts enough as it is. But I can only lie flat with my arm covering my eyes. "I don't need to know for me. I would be perfectly content with these memories, even if they aren't my own. I need to know for Him. If it were I, as Cloud Strife, that killed Him, things wouldn't have been so bad for Him. I would have been His nemesis, the one who justly should have ended His life. But if it was I, as His lover, that killed Him, well then I should for all intents and purposes rot in hell."  
  
I can see Vincent nodding at my statement in my minds eye. He understands. I could always count on Vincent to understand. The relaxation that occurs after a bout of continuous sobbing settles upon my worn body. I realize that skin on my arm is not wet with grievous tears. For the first time in a long time, I am not crying. I am nothing but exhausted. Sleep has been evasive now more than ever. I feared my dreams would be plagued with the dying visage of Sephiroth. But those fears are put to rest momentarily as my mind wills itself to rest. I need sleep. I need rest. I don't know if Vincent says anything more. I slip away before he has the chance.  
  
A/N: I'm writing this because my other fic is at a standstill. If anyone would like me to continue then I will. If not then this little whimsy of mine shall be put to an early grave. 


	2. Two

//"Do you dream?"  
  
"Of course, everyone dreams."  
  
"What do you dream about?"  
  
". . .I can never remember."  
  
"You're lying. I know when you lie because you always hesitate. I can tell that you don't want to. . . I never knew you were so morally upright."  
  
"I'm not. Only with you."  
  
"Then what do you dream about?"  
  
"I'd have thought by now you would have established the fact that maybe I would not like to share exactly what it is I dream about."  
  
"I'd have thought that by now we were close enough that you could tell me. You know I love you, and you know that I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
"But aren't you?"  
  
" . . .Why would you say that?"  
  
"I know you wont intend to. But I know you will, somehow."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I just do. Something in the back of my mind tells me you will. But that doesn't mean I want to be apart from you. You're the only one I could ever possibly care for. I don't want us to hurt each other."  
  
"Then we wont. We don't have to. But we need to be open with each other."  
  
"Everyone has their secrets. I've got mine and you've got yours. Some things are better left unsaid."  
  
"You're stubborn."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I know."//  
  
I panic for only a moment; a pure human response to a potentially dangerous situation. I feel my fevered eyelids slide open and I cannot see anything. I wonder briefly if I've gone blind. There is no sound, no breath of wind . . .nothing. I strain my eyes to see through the formidable darkness, but there is nothing to be seen. I forget where I am and why I'm here and what I'm here for. Of course that doesn't last long though. Memory swamps my mind like a flash flood, unpredicted and potentially deadly. I remember everything that I've done or might have done. I remember killing Sephiroth. I remember that Vincent was sitting at the foot of the bad when I went to sleep. I hazarded a question, praying for an answer. "You there Vincent?" I keep my voice soft; almost afraid that, if Vincent were not there, someone might think I'm talking to myself. As if it really mattered.  
  
"Yes, Cloud. I'm still here."  
  
I exhale in relief and note that my body does not ache as badly as it did before. Now I am weak though, so incredibly weak. I don't think I could move for anything. My head aches so that I feel as if the very walls of the northern crater have tumbled down upon me. "The lights are off?"  
  
"Yes Cloud."  
  
He turns toward me and I see the glow of his eyes, bright in the otherwise pitch-black room. Can my eyes illuminate space like that? Sephiroth's eyes did. I think that one time he and Zack were lost in the woods and they used Sephiroth's eyes when the batteries in the flashlight died. I'm too tired to cry at the memory. But then again every time I think that tears have evaded me, I find new things to mourn over and new losses discovered. I can always cry. At the very thought my throat aches in anticipation to the endless sobs that I know will reclaim me if I let them. Distraction. I need escape, release. Tears cannot accent my grief. Both Heaven and Hell know well enough of my bereavement. Vincent knows that my soul is dying from the loss of my angel. So whom do I need to cry for? What purpose does it serve? "Did you manage to sleep at all Vincent?" Gods I sound weak. I might as well be dead already.  
  
"No, Cloud. But don't worry, I can get by with a few days of lost sleep."  
  
"Don't make yourself ill or uncomfortable on my behalf, Vincent. It's not as if I'm-"  
  
"Of course you're worth it, Cloud. Don't ever think that you're not."  
  
His reaction startles me and leaves me speechless. The vehemence in his voice is almost as if he . . . perhaps he . . . cares about . . . me? No. I must be more delusional than I thought. It's only because he knows what I'm feeling. He has it inside him. The feelings of worthlessness and woe. My very own personal monster that grows inside me is not unlike the demons that were spawned within him. I wonder if Hojo intended him to be that way, or if Vincent's transformations are a manifestation of how he views himself. Maybe I'll turn into a monster someday too. I like the thought. The idea of me crawling around in a puddle of stagnant slime in a rotting cave. The notion that one day I might do nothing but weep and snatch bugs out from underneath my own fermenting body so that I might feast on them. Somehow I want this, and somehow the whole thing is very funny.  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
I realize that I was laughing . . . /laughing!/ It's been ages since I've laughed. As bitter and maniacal as it is I am actually laughing. I stop though, as Vincent is gazing at me, his eyes rich with concern. "What?"  
  
He pauses. I know he wants an explanation and I'm not willing to give it. I'll laugh at my masochism whenever I like, and no one has to ever know why. His eyes peer at me through the darkness. He looks sad. "Where do you want to leave to? It's nearly nightfall."  
  
Oh yes, we're leaving. I can't wait. I need to be away from the others because they'll never leave me alone and they will never understand. But where /are/ we going? Somewhere swampy and cave-like, I hope. A dark dingy place where no one will ever find me. There are lots of places like that around, I know because I've seen them. But why can't I think of any? "Where can we go where no one will find us?" I think briefly that the mythril mines might accommodate me well. There are enough mako-enhanced mosquitoes to feed me for quite some time, and I could sludge around in the dark and shout and keen and moan. But since Midgar is destroyed there are travelers on their way to Junon, and they would harass me, just like the people I thought were my friends did. Sadly the caves that we went materia hunting in are actually somewhat beautiful. Sandy and well lit with enough mako deposits to give it a quiet glow. None of them suit me.  
  
"What about the Frog Forest?"  
  
It's as if he reads my mind. . He used to do that. Know what I was thinking even if my back was turned and I hadn't said a word. I remember the small ways He would try to comfort me if He knew I was feeling sad, brushing his gloved knuckles against the small of my back or a light and nondescript kiss behind my ear. And I remember the ways He always knew when I was lying to Him. He never said anything about that. He would just look at me with such a horrible hurt that no one else would ever see. That look made me want to stay with Him forever and to never hurt Him again. But I always did, and I always did again. I wonder now if I was more hurt than good. Of course, He would lie too, but it never hurt. When He lied it was simply to evade questions He did not wish to answer. He was loyal to me and I never questioned His fidelity, nor was I able to find fault in His love for me. Yet, He always was an enigma to me.  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
I shake my head and blink my eyes. What had he just said? "Oh, Frog Forest." My first reaction is a strong, resounding 'NO!' So many trees and little happy hopping things and brightness and other things that I can't stand. But then in the back, there is that cave where I found my Apocalypse. Yes. It's not as slimy as I might have hoped for, but it's definitely dark and out of the way. And the brightness outside does have its advantages. With everything outside so sweet, then my prison inside will seem all the more wretched. "Maybe . . . that might work." And indeed it might. I can't help but wonder about the remainder of the northern crater though. If I was there, I could /never/ ever escape my sins. The very existence of that place is a reminder of just how stained my hands are, of how stained /I/ am. There would be no ounce of comfort and absolutely no escape from my penance. It is exactly what I deserve. "What about the crater?"  
  
His eyes snap up at me and glow a deeper red than I'm used to. I know the look in his eyes because I've seen it so many times. But never on him, his eyes were /never/ like that. He is afraid. There is an inexplicable terror in those blood red eyes. The glow of his eyes lights his face with soft shadows and every line of his countenance is grave, adamant in his resolves. He doesn't wish to go there. But then it's not as if he has to stay. "Nostalgic?"  
  
Fear changes to anger and just as quickly his eyes reveal nothing. No emotion. ShinRa elitists were like that. They were gargoyles in more ways than one. One moment they were creatures of flesh and blood and malice, the next they were simply rock and granite and malice. They could all turn their eyes to stone at any given moment and at any given whim. Garnets stare back at me as I think this; fire opals. Beautifully striking in ways that compel nearly everyone, but no one could ever tell what the jewels were thinking or how they felt. Sometimes it was better that way.  
  
"No Cloud."  
  
He's thinking of an excuse.  
  
"The area around the crater is unstable. Everything could collapse at any given moment."  
  
"So?" There are still pieces of Zack in me. The boy from Nibelheim was never this stubborn or this prideful or this stupid. Do I really want to die? Is that what I deserve or would that simply be too just for someone who has sinned as I have? I realize belatedly that Vincent is lying to me. The crater already did collapse. There's nothing left to be unstable. "I'll just go by myself." I say this only to see what his response will be. After all, he might just leave me somewhere anyways and . . . As much as I hate myself for it I /need/ to be with another human. I can't be alone, not anymore.  
  
"I wont let you Cloud."  
  
"And who are you to govern my life?" I lift my head as much as I can and I have to feign anger.  
  
The glow disappears slowly as he bows his head and strands of hair fall before his eyes like black cobwebs black lit by bloody lights. There is a soft tapping as his the fingers of his claw dance along the wooden post of the bed. I can't help but be prideful over the fact that I can influence him so much. He is a stone to most people, unmoving and unspeaking, no emotion whatsoever. Even the slight tapping of fingers that would be normal and characteristic of most people demonstrates only a nervousness and indecision in him. I wonder why he doesn't try to hide it.  
  
"Shall I be honest with you Cloud? Or shall I tell you what you want to hear?"  
  
His question catches me off guard and I'm forced to contemplate his words. My powers of reason seem fuzzy and atrophied. All I know now is that after everything that I've been through, after every charade I've put myself through and after so many people kept secrets from me, honesty is something that should never be taken for granted. Lies lead to delusion and secrets lead to distrust. I cannot afford to delude myself again. I'll go completely insane then. Who knows, I might even try to take over the world. And I want . . . I want to trust Vincent, I really do. "Tell me the truth Vincent."  
  
I hear him inhale slowly and deeply. His eyes close as he releases the air from his lungs. "Very well. I never intended for this to happen and I tried to fight it. But there is a hidden sentiment that lingers in me that I cannot deny. I care for you in a sense that I do not understand . . ."  
  
He pauses and all I can think is that he's trying to justify what he means. I don't understand either.  
  
"Perhaps there is something in your anguish that goes deeper than mine. I'm not exactly sure. But I know that I want to help you. It may be futile to try and relieve you of your grief, but I sense that there are other demons at work in your mind. I want to rid you of those and I will do anything within my power to do so. Am I making any sense?"  
  
It takes me a moment to respond, as I can't really process all that he's just divulged. Did he say that he cares for me? He wants to help me? "Yes," I answer dumbly. "I mean no." A want to rub my temples to ease the imminent headache seething in the back of my head but I'm too tired to lift my arms. "What do you mean you care for me?" I sound annoyed and afraid all at once.  
  
"I care about you. It's as simple as that."  
  
There are many different levels of caring. I cared for Zack as a brother, and I cared about Tifa and my mother because I felt like I had to. I cared for Aeris because I thought I was someone else. And then there are some things that I care about simply because I need them, like I care for my Ultima Weapon. And there was Sephiroth, whom I cared for on so many levels it hurt . . . it hurt then and it hurts even more so now. But what does all that have to do with Vincent? A derisive scoff drips off my lips like poison. "You care for me? How so Vincent? Is it as if I'm a wounded animal and you want to help me out of sheer pity?"  
  
Not even the slightest of pauses before his response. "In a sense, yes."  
  
I open my eyes, never realizing that they had closed, and gaze up at him through the blackness. If there was one thing I liked about Vincent it was his bluntness, a brutal honesty completely unmatched. I laugh again, a resonating cruelty that I can no longer disguise or deny. Pity is what keeps him here with me now. Pity is what makes him stay awake at my side for hour upon hour. I'm sure pity is what keeps him from detesting me completely. But then . . . maybe that's not just it. I realize how similar we really are, and I realize that in this similarity, we both need to find ways to remind us how awful we really are. Vincent blames himself for /everything/ that happened. Not just Hojo and not just Lucrecia, but also the more recent past and, indeed, the present. I stare into his eyes that are completely unguarded as he is trying to be honest with me. There is a pain and sadness there that is just shy of matching my own. He feels like my pain is /his/ fault; that he could have stopped me and stopped Sephiroth and redeemed himself of his sins by doing so. "Vincent," the bitterness in my voice is gone and I sound like a child even to myself. "You know that none of this was your fault. There was no escaping what happened. Jenova had her claws so far in Him that it would have taken years to get them out. We didn't have years. We had mere /minutes/ before everything went to hell. Sephiroth . . . there was no way we could have made Him see in time. And the others, they wouldn't tolerate it anyways. Everyone /hated/ Sephiroth. There was no way we could have helped Him."  
  
"But what about you?"  
  
I close my eyes again as if the action will stop me from crying. It, surprisingly, does. I inhale deeply to try and stable myself. "When He died a part of me died as well. The only part left of me that was human, that was even remotely capable of caring is go-" I stop talking because he's laughing. The reasons why he is laughing are unimportant to me right now because not once did I ever hear Sephiroth laugh . . .not even /once/. It was rare for Him even to /smile/. But this sound now, so soft yet so /genuine/ . . . I know this is the way Sephiroth would have laughed. Ecstasy overcomes me as I imagine that Sephiroth is sitting at my side and laughing, euphony in the midst of hell.  
  
The memory overcomes me before I can try to push it back to the recesses of my mind. One time when I almost made Him laugh. I sat at the edge of the bed and He was undressing for the night. It was three in the morning and He had just finished an exceptionally large stack of paperwork. I recall that I would sit by His desk more so to make sure the precariously leaning tower of paper didn't spill all over the floor than for His support. The stack of paper cast a shadow over His face and while I sat there, I thought of metaphors and poetry about how the ShinRa were masking Him and smothering Him. Then in the bedroom with His back turned to me as His shirt dropped to the floor, revealing flawless skin over an amazingly muscular physique. I let my eyes wander over His body, taking in the tired shadows and the less than prefect posture. His mouth was pressed into a disdainful frown. He was frustrated . . . and He wanted me. There was always that need for Him to somehow vent his anger and I let Him use me as a way. He never hurt me; He just needed the distraction and the adrenaline to make Him forget. He was tired though, circles of exhaustion under His eyes and to me it seemed like a crime to mar such perfection. He would never ask me, and I could see Him looking at me from the corner of His eye with a weary exhausted need, hoping I would catch the look and offer myself to Him. But He looked /so/ tired and He had to be awake in two hours as it was. So I could either let Him sleep for a few desperately needed moments or keep Him awake with a few hours of animal sex. I opted for the former. I smiled sadly at Him, knowing exactly what He was thinking and told Him that it might be a good idea if we got some sleep. There was nothing about His exterior that would portray the fact that He was disappointed, and I'm sure that I was the only person (maybe . . . maybe it was Zack) that ever had any idea what was going on in that brilliant mind. He /really/ wanted me. I told him to relax and He finished undressing and lay down on the bed beside me. I still remember how at that exact moment His strong lithe form slid beside me with all the grace of a black panther. Nothing ever again could possible attain such perfect grace. And I remember the fleeting look He gave me, His eyes perusing my body and there was need there. His fingers flexed slightly in anticipation to touch and there was passion there. However, even in the few minutes since He entered the room His fatigue had somehow grown. I told Him to sleep and that we were both probably too tired anyways. My words sounded unconvincing even to me. Therefore, I told Him to try to think of a distraction. He gave me a look that said 'Distraction? Like what?' I could read Him so easily when He wanted me to. We could have entire conversations and He would never have to say a word. I explained various distractions, pretend there's an earthquake, or imagine that the ground is covered in spiders. He looked unimpressed and unconvinced. I told Him to imagine Palmer giving Heidegger a lap dance. His beautiful eyes widened then just a fraction and those full, austere lips curved into a smile that even the blindest could see. He shook His head and His hair fell over His eyes and He /grinned/. Perfect ivory flashing in the dim light of the room as a no doubt hideously graphic image unfolded in His mind. He gave an involuntary shiver and sighed before He threw an arm around me in the most affectionate gesture I would ever receive from Him. I swallow hard as I realize that no one will ever be able to hear Him laugh ever, including me. But Vincent? Has anyone ever heard Him laugh? The sound stops all too soon.  
  
"I apologize, Cloud. But I remember a time when I thought the exact same thing. When Lucrecia died I thought that I was incapable of feeling anything, but you proved me wrong."  
  
The first thing I notice is that Vincent does not pause before speaking Lucrecia's name and I scorn him inwardly for such lack of reverence. But wait . . . did he say that /I/ proved him wrong? /I/ was the one who delivered him from his convictions that he was worthless and inhuman? But I didn't even do anything. I'm not sure whether I'm happy or sad for him. I know that if anyone ever made me forget Sephiroth or made me regard Him in any less worship and guilt as I do now that I would /hate/ them for taking away my love. But then, it must be nice to be able to live again, to know that there is still something left out there worth being alive for. Because he is sitting here with me now, I assume that he is happy to finally overcome his bereavement. If he's happy then I have no reason to feel sorry for him. I feel guilt seep into my mind and I cannot push that away either. If /I/ was the one who destroyed his love for Lucrecia then I have no right to cast him aside and no right to even think about thwarting exactly what it is that he's offering me.  
  
I feel like my mind has collapsed. I know only physical facts. My neck is twisted in an uncomfortable way and my arms feel like lead weights. I know that the mattress sags a little under Vincent's weight. But I still don't get why he's here and why he's telling me all these things and what they're supposed to mean to me or how Sephiroth fits in with all of this. Instinct though . . . during times when you cannot trust your mind, you must rely on instinct. All that my primal senses tell me as that Vincent exudes a quiet kindness and gentle need. But do I deserve that? Does he deserve it? Does it matter? Does my happiness even matter?  
  
"Alright. Frog Forest it is."  
  
"Thank you, Cloud." 


	3. Three

Disclaimer that I kept forgetting about: All my favorite people belong to Squaresoft (i.e. Sephy, Cloud, Vincent, Zack, etc.).  
  
//"Do you love me?"  
  
" . . .Yes."  
  
"Hmmm, then why do you hesitate?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You're not really sure are you, about loving me."  
  
" . . .I'm not sure what love is really."  
  
"It's whatever you want it to be."  
  
"Is it? In that case I love you."  
  
"Yeah? I love you too, so so much . . . What would you do if I died?"  
  
"I would die too."  
  
"What would you do if I became a monster?"  
  
"I would become a monster hunter and trap you. Keep you all to myself."  
  
"Oh yeah? Well what would you do if I became a cloud?"  
  
"I would become the sky, so I would always be close to you."  
  
"And if I became a leaf?"  
  
"I would be the wind, and we could go all over the world together."  
  
"See, that's love."  
  
"It's strange."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"It's horrible and wonderful at the same time."//  
  
Something about the idea of running away has always appealed to me, not because of the fact that I'd be escaping some terror or starting life anew, but because of the /thrill/ of it all. I've always been an adventure seeker, I know that was me. I love to run, to feel the wind caress my hair and coursing through my outstretched fingers. Every so often, I have a dream that if I run fast enough, I can fly. Not as though I've sprouted wings and can soar high through the air and touch clouds, but I simply rise up off the ground a few feet and glide until I touch ground again, still running. It makes the prospect of flight more realistic, and as I feel the chocobo beneath me running now, swift as any wind, I want to stretch out my arms, just to see if I might hover above the ground for a little while.  
  
We snuck away in the middle of the night without anyone noticing. It's fantastic. Vincent had crept around gathering provisions and the idea that he might be caught was so exciting. I haven't felt this way in such a long time. It's the same exact feeling I get while standing in the wake of a mighty gale, but then I don't consider it to necessarily be standing against anything. In Nibelheim on the mountain path, if you stood in the right place at the right time, the wind would consume you completely. Cool and clean and invigorating. I would never have to try to conquer it, I would simply merge with it until I was the wind too and I would fly with it. I love the wind. Sephiroth always reminded me of the wind. Elusive and mysterious, governed by none. He looked like the wind, with his flowing silver hair and sometimes the greens in his eyes would smudge; the wind streaked those colors for Him to make Him more beautiful. He was a violent typhoon and a gentle breeze; I was a leaf given flight by that wind. I loved it. I miss it.  
  
Now I am running, and it makes everything a little better. I know my mind has been slipping. I cannot think of Him anymore and when I do, it's as if He still exists. I told myself that I could not afford to be deluded ever again, but its not like I'm /willing/ myself to be this way, I just am. Vincent's presence makes things worse because if I close my eyes then it isn't Vincent standing before me, it's Sephiroth. I fear I'll do something to add to my list of regrets if I'm not careful. Stroke those high cheek bones or watch as my breathy whispers of love and lust make the hair near his ear flutter away as if caught in a breeze. I fear one day that my mind just might shut down completely and I wont even have to close my eyes to see Sephiroth in front of me, kissing me, making love to me. I don't want to go crazy.  
  
Still tired though, and still weak. And everything hurts again as I'm jostled and thrown around in the narrow saddle of my chocobo. Noble birds, they are, but bumpy as hell. I have to cling to his neck to keep from falling off and my arms are starting to give out. "Vincent?" No response, I open my eyes against the blast of air running over me and squint into the darkness. Vincent is far ahead of me and no doubt unable to hear my calls. Everything can be drowned by wind.  
  
A buck and a jump and I slip and have to scramble using what little strength left I have to get back into a normal position. For some reason it takes a lot of concentration to breathe when the wind is rushing so fast against me. I can never get enough air and I pant in exertion. "Vincent?"  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
"C-can we s-stop for tonight?" My words are accented by a sharp bark as my chocobo skids to a halt and I am nearly thrown into the wind . . . I nearly fly away. He says nothing, only brings his bird back around and dismounts in one graceful movement. He hoists me from my mount and carries me to rest against a large tree nearby. He takes my sword from where I had attached it to the bird's saddle and tosses it to me. He starts gathering wood and I hear the faint snapping of twigs beneath his boots.  
  
"We shouldn't stay here for too long, the others may follow us."  
  
"Gods, why can't they just leave me /alone/."  
  
" . . .They are concerned for you, Cloud. They do not want to see you so miserable."  
  
"They have no idea. They don't even /know/. How could I have told them? They would have hated me." On second thought, it would have been better if I had told them. They wouldn't follow me then, would they.  
  
"You never told anyone else."  
  
"No. How could I tell them that I am . . . that I /was/ in love with the man that killed so many. But I wasn't in love with that killer, just Sephiroth, the way He was before." I let my head sink against the trunk of the tree. The knots in the wood are uncomfortable but who cares. Discomfort is only an illusion, like so many other things. The breeze stirs the leaves high above me. I wish I were a leaf.  
  
"Then remember him only the way he was, and not what he became."  
  
I smile a little. I'm beginning to like Vincent more and more, now that he's actually speaking to me. I know I will benefit from his wisdom, I just don't know if I want to. So for now I'll just let the weary exhaustion take over, and I might even sleep a little. My dreams, so far, they haven't been too bad. I see Him, and I get to see how beautiful He is and I might get to fly with Him at this rate.  
  
"When was the last time you've eaten?"  
  
Startled out of my thoughts yet again. The thought of food seems strange to me. I don't remember the last time I ate anything. Food just seemed so trivial after . . . after Sephiroth, and by now I suppose I'd just forgotten. "I don't remember."  
  
A soft sigh of exasperation and I immediately feel the weight of my own burden. Sleepless nights cannot be nearly even half of what I'm putting him through. Oh what perfect agony this is. As if I need the guilt to take flight beneath my heart; as if I really need Vincent to put himself through the hell that is me. I feel my eyes burn with a newfound mourning. Bereavement. Vincent as I knew him is gone forever. All that's left is a . . . guardian. Vincent my guardian angel. Who ever said that he needs this? Why does Destiny make people do things like this? A smile a little as I imagine Chaos. Not an angel, but then again I don't deserve one. Hell, I don't even deserve a demon.  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
I flinch and push myself back against the tree. "What."  
  
"I am going to go hunting now. Will you be all right here by yourself?"  
  
My guardian demon who is afraid to leave my side, probably because I can't stand up on my own or because I still have enough strength to kill myself. But he trusts me. He doesn't have a choice. He's mine now. "I'll be fine Vincent."  
  
He might be smiling but his face is, as always, concealed. I am grateful for the fact. If he were smiling, I know I would see Sephiroth there. It's bad enough as it is. I feel stinging tears well up in my wind-blown eyes, only because I miss my Sephiroth. I miss Him so much. What I wouldn't give for just one touch, one whisper. I don't bother to wipe my eyes and watch as my tears make wet circles on the fabric of my pants. Just a single touch . . . just one last kiss. I close my eyes because the wind and the tears hurt them. My eyes close because the anguish inside is to great to bear. They stay closed.  
  
// "You're so beautiful."  
  
He smiles. I want to kiss Him but I'm too lazy to get up.  
  
"Won't you kiss me Sephiroth?"  
  
Another blessed smile and He walks towards my outstretched arms and we embrace. He gives me a light kiss and I want more. His hair is soft and yielding in my greedy fingers. He simply lies next to me and lets Himself be touched. His eyes close when I kiss them and He smiles, just like a sleeping child. His lips parted slightly and begging to be kissed over and over, His cheeks flushed just barely with desire, He is so beautiful. Pressing tightly against Him as I kiss the skin on His neck, I hear His shallow breathing and revel in His touch as He begins to brush His lithesome fingers across my back. I feel the heat from Him, He feels the heat from me, and He looks me in the eye while tugging lazily at the top button of my shirt, as if He really needs my permission. As if He doesn't know that I need Him.//  
  
My body jerks and I fumble for my sword when I hear the gunfire. Panic again in its sweetest form and my dilated eyes frantically search around me. A clearing, a tree, some chocobos, the wind. My dream fades and reality sets in. I smell gunpowder in the air and I can here Vincent trudging back through the forest not too far away. How long had I been asleep? Was I asleep at all? My breath quiets and I feel my pulse return to a state of normalcy. I collapse back against the tree and remember my dream. How do I live like this? How is it that I can possibly stay alive when at one point in time I had /that/, I used to have /Him/! I think. Either way those memories make life so difficult and I have to concentrate so hard on just breathing so that I forget some things. Breathing. Steady motion in my chest, in, out, in, out. Not a good way to forget anything. Breathing . . . I always breathe. Why don't I stop?  
  
Vincent is dragging a fairly large bird behind him and it once had brilliant plumage. I can see the glowing of his eyes and he looks intense and Turk-like. He eyes me reproachfully, blood red perusing over my white knuckles and my shaking, sweaty grip on my sword.  
  
"Nothing happened did it? Cloud?"  
  
I shake my head and draw my knees up to my chest, letting my sword fall to the ground. He begins to deplume the bird and I watch Him for all I'm worth. He is Vincent, not anyone else, only Vincent. Sephiroth would never brace the bird by its feet using a gleaming, metal claw, only Vincent. And Sephiroth would never watch me so openly and with such obvious concern; in fact, no one has ever looked at me the way he is watching me now. I feel blood rise to my cheeks in a sudden hot rush and I stare at the ground. There is something wrong and I can't quite tell what, but something is just wrong. Vincent would never act like this. He would never ever /care/ about anyone that wasn't Lucrecia. Why is he looking at me this way, why does he care about me and why do I want this so badly. Why do I need to be cared about?  
  
"Give it time Cloud. Just rest and give it time."  
  
I have all the time in the world. I have an eternity to think about this. I have forever to remember Him and to need Him. Time is something I would gladly give in abundance. I would give every minute of my life away right now if I could. I barely hear the sound of ripping tendons as my guardian demon wrenches the bird onto a long, sharpened stick. I think of how slowly time goes as he carefully checks his materia. A faint glow takes a fraction of eternity to appear before the pile of sticks Vincent collected bursts into flame. After five hundred years has gone by, the bird is roasting slowly . . . very slowly, over the fire. I realize that after such a long time without eating, I really am hungry.  
  
"Tell me about Zack. I don't know that much about him."  
  
A muffled sob escapes my throat and I turn my face into my hands to try to calm down. Zack. Zack. Zack. God I miss him, I wish he was here too, I wish that Zack and me and Sephiroth were all here . . . together, happy. For eternity. Tears fall from my eyes and Vincent doesn't speak, he makes no apology for upsetting me and does not attempt to mitigate my sorrow. Breathing, in, out, in, out. It's okay. Only Zack. Just Zack. He died for me. He gave up everything he ever had to save me. But I'm not guilty . . . no. I can't be. I'd go insane if I ever even thought of being guilty. Sephiroth is the only one that matters. I have enough guilt to fill the universe, just from killing my angel. Zack . . . even though I loved him too, doesn't matter that much. And I hate myself for it. "What do you want to know?" The wind makes my tears streak across my face in jagged, wet lines.  
  
"You met in Midgar?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"At the academy?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
"He was very close to Sephiroth, was he not?"  
  
I don't know. Yeah, he must have been, I guess. "Well. I guess I should start trying to figure this out. I . . . uhhh. Maybe?"  
  
"When was the first time you met Sephiroth?"  
  
I remember watching Him. He stood by a river carrying a map and looking serious. His eyes darted back and forth between the terrain and the map. Mission? Wutai? I plunge deeper into my memories. Ambush. He saved me. The jungle . . . and I had a bullet wound in my shoulder. He put pressure on it and didn't take the bullet out until we got to one of ShinRa's fortresses. Fortress. I don't think ShinRa needs fortresses unless they're at war. Must have been Zack. Had to have been. I wasn't . . . in the war. I don't think I was. And if I wasn't in the war, then the first time I met Him was . . . was . . . I'll be damned if I can remember anything. "I don't know dammit." I clench my jaw and wish I forget /everything/. And to think some people get amnesia when they undergo head trauma.  
  
"Don't get frustrated, Cloud. I'm only here to help you. We'll figure everything out. Now do you remember the first time you met Zack?"  
  
"I was in his squad. I stayed after every day for extra help."  
  
"You became friends that way."  
  
I nod. The memories are there, but fuzzy. I watch as Vincent flips the bird over. His eyes scour the darkness around us and he taps the handle of his gun idly. I realize that I'm checking my materia, even though I haven't the strength to use it. There's fat dripping of the bird and it hisses as it drips into the fire. The wind stirs some of the discarded feathers and the lighter downy ones fly around and then disappear with the gust that made them fly. A long fingered hand waves in front of my eyes and I shake my head. "Huh?"  
  
He is smiling. There is no way /anyone/ can deny this. I nearly gape at him. His eyes sparkle with hidden mirth.  
  
"You're doing it again."  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Getting lost in your own little world. Your eyes glaze over and you aren't even aware when I speak."  
  
"Oh, sorry. Did you say something?"  
  
"Yes but do not worry. It can wait." He looks at me with . . . affection? Sweet Shiva, he's not . . . he couldn't possibly be . . . in . . . love. With me. Please no. No no no no no. Please. I can't . . . I don't want to hurt him. I can't hurt anybody anymore. I'll die if I know that he's in pain. I never want to hurt /anybody/ ever again. Not again. "Cloud?" I shiver at the compassion, however slight, in his voice. "Cloud, relax." I look up at him again as he flips the bird over. He watches me; there is concern there but not love. I'm just crazy, that's it. Seeing things that aren't there, /again/. I must remember that I'm the sick puppy, the bird with the broken wing. Something to be pitied. Something you take care of only because no one else will. I'm simply delirious. Yes, delirious, that must be it.  
  
"Drink this." He hands me a flask and I take it without looking. It's water and I drink it, not realizing how dehydrated I am. "Another thing you must learn to do Cloud, is to never think of anyone's well being but your own. I know what you've been thinking, that you're a burden. Please understand that were I not here with you now, I'd be back molding in a coffin, weltering in my own self-pity. You are not a burden Cloud; never think that. You do not need compassion because you have grief, so don't worry about me."  
  
I pour the remaining contents of the flask down my throat and feel sick. I flop forward a little so I can lie down and I end up in an awkward stuck position. Quite suddenly and without any warning, I feel his hands on me; his palms are pressed against my sides and supporting me as I simply collapse. The sensation of his naked, human hand against me makes me shiver. It's not unlike the initial touch of life stream; that is before it starts to burn. An incredible tingling feeling that I can't explain, and the fact that Vincent is making me feel this is strange to me. I always forget what its like to be touched. Before Sephiroth, I never knew, and after Sephiroth, I forgot. But now . . . it is so wrong of me to crave this, to want /more/ of this. The heels of my hand dig into my temples as I try to force ideas out of my mind, thoughts of the different ways Vincent and I could touch each other. It's wrong . . . sick even. I don't deserve to be touched by anything; I'm surprised Vincent's hand hasn't burned off. And even if I did deserve it . . . the thought that I can even /think/ about being with someone other than Sephiroth is disgusting. But then . . . If it's so wrong then why aren't I trying to get away?  
  
"Cloud? Are you all right?" The voice of my guardian demon, laced with concern. I can't move, paralyzed in that very position and stuck to the ground. He shakes me gently and speaks my name again. Sounds like Sephiroth, that same voice. Calling to me. I open my eyes just in time to see my hand reaching out to touch the owner of that voice, but it's not what I expected. Garnet not emerald, ebony, and not silver. I jerk my hand away quickly and scramble away.  
  
"Sorry Vincent, I didn't mean to . . . I'm just tired."  
  
He smiled in understanding. "Eat a little. You'll need the strength."  
  
"For what?"  
  
He looks at me curiously but does not respond. My confusion has thoroughly soaked my mind. I barely know where I am. Actually, I don't even know that. I don't know why I'm here or why Vincent is with me. I don't know the date or how long I've been in that room sobbing or how long I've been jostled around on that chocobo. I don't know a thing; hell, I don't even suspect anything.  
  
"Eat." He hands me a fat leg and I take it. Grease runs down my arm and drips onto my clothes. I pick at the outside and eat very small bites, afraid that anything more might not agree with me. It's amazing how good food can taste when you haven't eaten since god knows when. We eat in silence, Vincent stares out into the darkness, his gun resting on his shoulder. He stokes the fire, making it bright to scare away some of the night creatures. I eat and I know I must look monstrous. I am ravenous and even though I know I should pace myself I can't help it. Before long I'm sucking leftover tissue from the bones. Vincent is staring at me with an expression I cannot gauge. "'You must have been starving," he says and turns his gaze back out into the darkness.  
  
I wipe the grease from my lips and say nothing. He's right though. "How . . . how long was I in there?"  
  
Slowly his face turns back towards me. "A week. We all thought that you simply needed some time alone. We tried to talk to you, but you wouldn't speak. Tifa thought you were dead."  
  
"Does she still think I'm dead?"  
  
A pause. "I gave her no reason to believe otherwise."  
  
"Did you tell them you were leaving?"  
  
"Yes, though I did not say that you would be accompanying me." I swear his eyes twinkle a little as He turns to gaze at the forest. "You might be surprised to know that Barret was probably the most concerned for you."  
  
"Barret?"  
  
His eyes shift towards me at the mournful tone in my voice. "Yes."  
  
I bite my lip hard. Perfect. Barret, as if he needs to hurt. Why do people have to care about me? I never did anything for Barret. Not one thing. Yet he . . . he was worried about me. I taste the tang of blood on my lips as I realize that I've been biting down too hard.  
  
"Don't bite your lip Cloud."  
  
His voice is chastising. Something else there in those words, something familiar and far away. I open my mouth and all at once the memory floods back to me. I remember now. Sephiroth, when I met Him.  
  
//"So the archives are fucked up, half of them have been completely fucking obliterated and the rest of them aren't recognized by the program." Zack said this. We were in training when suddenly the lights flickered and went out. They came back on shortly, but some kind of important programs for the SOLDIER training had been deleted. Sephiroth paced in front of His lieutenant with an austere yet controlled look. Everyone in the ranks was a cadet and it was the first time any of us had seen The General up close. We were so tense as we stood at attention that it had begun to hurt. I was nearly in tears, but not because it hurt to stand so straight. I was so very close to an angel, and I would have given anything to touch Him, but I knew I couldn't move. It hurt so badly to not be able to touch Him.  
  
"How am I supposed to correct the situation?"  
  
The room went completely still aside from Zack's fidgeting and Sephiroth's pacing. We'd never heard His voice and it was euphony.  
  
"Hell if I know. All I heard is that ShinRa wants the programs back up by Monday."  
  
Sephiroth stopped pacing and the room reverberated with energy; an energy I knew must have been anger though The General looked completely composed. Sephiroth rested His hands behind His back. "There are seventeen training programs that have been destroyed. It took me years to write them all, and ShinRa wants them back up by Monday?"  
  
"Yeah, sucks huh."  
  
Sephiroth rested one hand on His hip. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that everyone's eyes were completely trained on that one movement. The General mumbled something and Zack looked sympathetic. In a soft rustle of black leather The General began walking towards the door . . . more importantly He began walking towards /me/. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode. I took every ounce of energy I had not to squeeze my eyes shut just so that I wouldn't have to see Him. If I didn't see Him then I wouldn't run to Him and cling to that powerful body for all I was worth. I kept my eyes open and I watched as Sephiroth drew nearer and nearer. I felt dizzy. I watched as Sephiroth was less then a yard away. I watched He passes me, then stopped and turned back around. I watched as He stopped. Right. In. Front. Of. Me. One black gloved hand reached out and held my chin. A strong thumb pulled at my lower lip. "Don't bite your lip," He said.//  
  
I laugh, a harsh sound in the forest and Vincent glances at me looking confused. "I remember when I met Him. I remember." I laugh again and cover my face. "Sweet Shiva. I fainted! I fucking fainted." I continue to laugh and my sides begin to ache. "Gods, no wonder I blocked out that memory. Can you imagine how embarrassed I was? I fucking fainted on The fucking General's feet!" I can't help but be hysterical but it is funny . . . I fainted, how lame.  
  
I hear a soft sound from Vincent, a chuckle. "You fainted?"  
  
I nod and tears stream down my face I'm laughing so hard. "I'm such a loser!"  
  
He laughs then and shakes his head. "I don't mean to be offensive, but that is somewhat . . . embarrassing."  
  
I breathe in slowly, trying to steady myself and I wipe my eyes on my sleeve.  
  
"Why did you faint?"  
  
I stifle a laugh. "He told me not to bite my lip and touched my face. Then I passed out cold."  
  
Another chuckle and Vincent looks genuinely amused. "Then what?"  
  
I stop laughing. "I don't know. Maybe I'll remember later."  
  
"Let's hope so," Vincent says softly and stands in a quick, easy motion. "Let's go. We can still get in a few more miles before sun up."  
  
  
  
A/N: I used to have a lemon . . . but then the NC-17 ban was instigated. That won't stop me though!!! If you want the lemon I can e-mail it to you, just leave me a review stating that you are mature enough to handle the contents of the Seph/Cloud lemon and leave me an e-mail address. Please leave comments as well. 


	4. Four

Sephiroth's story is copyrighted to a book called Small Gods by Terry Pratchett, read it, it's good.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
//"Really?"  
  
"Yeah I've known him for a long time."  
  
" . . . Bullshit."  
  
"No I'm serious. We met during the war."  
  
"Well, maybe, but that doesn't mean you /know/ Him."  
  
"Yeah, Cloud. I KNOW HIM. We're friends. We spar one weekends."  
  
"You spar with The General? And I bet you win every time too huh?"  
  
"Yeah right, he wipes the floor with me."  
  
"So, you really know Him?"  
  
"Yes, Cloud. He is my friend, comprende?"  
  
"Yeah . . . I guess. So, what's He like?"  
  
"I dunno."  
  
"What do you mean you don't know? You just said you were friends with Him."  
  
"I dunno, he doesn't talk much. And uhhh, let's see. I guess he's real smart, and strong."  
  
"Everyone knows that. Zack, don't tease me."  
  
"I'm not! Ummm, oh, he hates fish. He likes red meat and ninjitsu."  
  
"And I bet He's also a Capricorn who enjoys long walks on the beach."  
  
"Nope. He aint no Capricorn, can tell you that much. And He doesn't like to get wet. Who would with that hair though?"  
  
"When's His birthday?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"When is His birthday?"  
  
"Jesus Cloud, I don't know."  
  
"Quit lying to me then."  
  
"I'm not lying to you! Stubborn ass. It's not even like /he/ knows when his birthday is."  
  
"How can you not know when your own birthday is?"  
  
"He doesn't. He grew up in the lab with Hojo. No one ever told him his birthday."  
  
" . . . Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That's kinda sad."  
  
"Haha, I should introduce you two. I bet you could love him up enough to make up for all those years in the lab."  
  
"Zack . . . you wouldn't. Please don't. I'll die!"  
  
"I dunno, might be fun to see."  
  
"Zack!"  
  
"Okay okay, I'm just teasing you. Here I'll tell you what. We're gonna spar this Saturday on the 25th floor training center. Why don't you tag along? It'd be good for your training and uhhh; you can get us water, or whatever."  
  
" . . . I don't know Zack. What if, ya know, I do something to embarrass myself?"  
  
"Like faint again?"  
  
"You said you wouldn't bring that up again."  
  
"Sorry sorry, I couldn't resist though. And for your information, he felt really bad about that. Besides, it could have been worse. You could have heaved all over his feet, right? . Just come along, I promise nothing will happen."  
  
" . . . Promise?"  
  
"I swear on Bahamut's Balls."  
  
"Okay. What time?"  
  
" . . . . . . . . . . Nine o'clock. Cloud, it's nine o'clock."//  
  
"Huh?" It takes me a moment to gather my senses. I open my eyes and it's so bright out that I can't see anything at all.  
  
"Are you awake now? It's nine o'clock. We should be leaving soon."  
  
"Oh, okay." Before I move my mind scrambles to retain the dream in my fucked up memory archive. I remember that conversation now. Zack had been talking about Sephiroth and I always thought that he was always less then respectful when he spoke The General's name. I told him so once and he responded with something along the lines of, 'I know that prick too well to respect him.' Of course this was simply Zack's slightly demented take on friendship. I only believed they were truly friends when I saw them. Zack prattled on and Sephiroth stood and listened quietly, offering only occasional bits of wisdom or witty comments. I sat in a corner and watched Him, trying to absorb everything that He said.  
  
"You remember something Cloud?"  
  
I put up my hand to silence Vincent. Any distraction and I might lose my train of thought forever . . . wait, what was I just thinking about? Sephiroth? Zack? Gods. My mind is so /fragile/, I can't even remember what happened two seconds ago. Frustrating. I sigh raggedly and curl onto my side. I was close . . . so close to figuring out something.  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
"Yeah . . . I remembered something, but I forgot again."  
  
"I apologize. I won't interrupt you in the future."  
  
There is little conviction in his tone, but then I know that's just the way Vincent talks. A king teal had slashed him across the chest once and left a deep, welling gash. Tifa and I ran to him to try and help him when a tonberry king attacked us. Vincent had stated in a quite normal tone that 'you shouldn't concern yourselves at the moment. We can deal with this little incision later'. Calm and collected as always. I wish I could talk like that, pretend that there was nothing wrong when there was and never give people reason to suspect that I feel anything at all. I wonder what Vincent is thinking right now? I turn my eyes up towards him and all I see is his black silhouette and the blinding rays of the sun behind him. "Gods, what time is it?"  
  
"Cloud, it's nine."  
  
"Oh yes."  
  
"Did you remember something again?"  
  
I blush a little as I realize that I lost track of space and time again and fell victim to my own observations. "No. I'll remember later though."  
  
"Would it help if you spoke out loud when you remembered things? That way if you forget then at least I'll remember."  
  
I stand and half expect to hear my bones creak in protest. My muscles are incredibly sore, like cramps through every fiber in my legs. "Yeah. I'll try to speak out loud next time."  
  
"Always a pleasure to have people cooperate." He mutters this, almost as if he didn't want me to hear. Have I been uncooperative? I bow my head.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Quite suddenly, there is a little gust of wind accented by flying bits of dust. He rests his claw on my shoulder and uses his human hand to lift my chin, forcing me to gaze into the burgundy depths. "Do you remember what I told you last night?"  
  
Blurbs of speech drift through my mind, none of them are clear enough to discern. I feel bad because I know Vincent is trying to help me, and he truly is helping, but that doesn't mean I can remember a single word he said. Something about teasing me? Or had that been a dream? My dreams and reality are beginning to morph together, faces too. I don't even know who is who or what is what anymore. What do I remember about last night? I remember making love to Sephiroth. But He's dead . . . I didn't, do anything with Vincent, did I? Did he tell me he loved me last night? Better to play it safe. "I don't remember, I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't apologize, I know things are hard for you. I told you that you shouldn't worry about anyone but yourself and that-"  
  
"-I'm not a burden. I remember now." Sephiroth must have been a dream. Felt so real though.  
  
"Yes, that's right. Do you think you can ride?"  
  
"Yeah. I feel a lot better after eating."  
  
"I'm glad."  
  
Of course there are times when that neutral tone is nothing but aggravating. He sounds so insincere that I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic or not. "Where are we?" I look around and all I see is sand, dunes that curve gently but are in reality not in the least gentle. They are deadly and harsh. I wonder how many people have died out here in the heat, alone with no resources. Maybe I'll be one of them. It's hot out, and dry. I can feel the heat radiating from above me and from below me as well. Sephiroth and I always hated the heat. We liked the cold better. When we went on missions in cold places, we used to share a bed to keep warm. I like that better than this. This is dry, gritty, unforgiving.  
  
"Near Cosmo Canyon. I took the fastest way possible so it's no wonder this seems unfamiliar to you. Look off there, to the north. See those mountains? I believe Yuffie forced us to go materia hunting with her into a cave there. Do you remember?"  
  
"Yes. The stupidest materia ever, that's what she called it. She was right. No one ever used it, not even once." I smile despite myself and wonder where Yuffie is now. I'm too afraid to ask. "I remember everything after Zack died, like materia hunting and fighting in Midgar. Everything else though, it's just so mixed up." Carrion birds fly overhead. If I die at least I'll be doing something some good. "You and I, we are predators, Vincent. We see straight, everything is on one level. Have you ever wondered what it was like to see through the eyes of the hunted?" I wonder how scavengers see.  
  
He looks at me strangely and I wonder if I'm making any sense. It makes sense to me. "You're not speaking metaphorically are you."  
  
"No." I shake my head. "Animals that are preyed upon see things differently because their eyes are on the sides of their head." I put my hands to my temples to illustrate my point. He is expressionless.  
  
"And that's how your mind is. Two views that appear the same but something obstructs the middle."  
  
"Exactly." I'm glad he understands me, let's me know I'm not completely insane. "That and, unlike most animals, I can't tell which side my attacker is coming from. That is literally how I view my memories sometimes. Half from Zack and half from me, my vision splits. I just don't know which half is which."  
  
"Are all of your memories like that?"  
  
The sand shifts a distance away and I think of Sephiroth. The ways His muscles would contract beneath His skin. So much power. "No . . . not all of them." Focus Cloud. You're talking to Vincent not reminiscing about things you will /never/ have again. "Ummm. No, actually hardly any of them are like that. Just a few."  
  
"I see." He sounds disappointed, however slight.  
  
I can't help but let my eyes wander over to that patch of moving sand. So beautiful, He was. Beautiful. "Hey Vincent?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Sand . . . I mean, it shouldn't move like that . . . should it?"  
  
I watch him turn slowly and let my mind put Sephiroth in his place. It can't hurt for only a moment, if I just pretend for a second. Of course I can't pretend long because Sephiroth would never draw a gun, He didn't like guns. I realize belatedly that we might be in danger and I scour the area for my sword. The gold chocobo I rode on has it slung over the saddle on its back. I wince as I force my legs to move and hobble over to the bird. I glance back once at Vincent, his eyes are sharp and focused. Every muscle in his body is tense and ready to take aim and fire at any given moment. My fingers graze the hilt of my sword and I can still lift it without too much trouble. I actually believe that weapons choose their owners and cooperate with them by, well for me not weighing as much as one would expect. Ultima Weapon always feels light in my hands. I hate my sword though. I hate it and I love it. I love it because I need it to protect people, I hate it because of what it did, whose blood is on it. I turn and Vincent is still staring at the shifting sand, it appears closer than before. I hear the scraping of Vincent's metal boots with such clarity it frightens me and suddenly, I can smell what's coming towards us. The stagnant carrion odor of one of those hideous sand-spitting worms. They make horror films from things like that, but this, this one, I sense something different about it.  
  
I know danger; I know it well. And even if my muscles have atrophied and my skills have gone slack, my body is ready for the assault. My fingers grip my escort guard, just to make sure its still there. And I run.  
  
I hear Vincent call to me and from the corner of my eye I see the sun glint off the metal on his arm as he reaches out to me. I might be able to hear the footfalls of his persecuting form were it not for the fact that I am focused entirely on the danger before us. Throughout the months of fighting, I trained my mind to see only threats and block out the rest. I wonder how much I missed; if anyone spoke to me or if there was beauty somewhere that I refused to acknowledge. No matter now, nothing matters anymore. Maybe I should . . . let myself be killed, here, now. I'm so tired of life. I want it to end, there is /nothing/ left for me here. Why is it that something hasn't put me out of my misery already?  
  
The worm rears up out of the ground and dirt and sand fly towards me and would have blinded me were it not for the armor. A maw of gnashing, spinning teeth like saw blades and bloody red depths are all I see for a moment. Without really thinking about it, I let my sword fall. It does not slip from my fingers, it just drops and my body grows slack. There is wind, and though it is hot and dry, it reminds me of days when I was happy and /alive/. The wind, such wonderful feelings. I can even imagine the sand pummeling my skin is softer, gentler, like the forgotten touch of a lover. It wouldn't be so bad to die this way, and though I intended to kill this parasite, I think I might not now, I think I might let it kill me.  
  
"Cloud! Please!"  
  
I hear gunfire and the deep, ground shaking howls of the great parasite. Bits of worm flesh fly about with the sand and the ground becomes speckled red-brown blood. I understand the words after I realize that Vincent is shooting down the beast, taking my opportunity for peace and ripping it apart. I am not angry. But those words, such horrible /desperate/ conviction. It would be wrong of me die without letting him feel like he's at least accomplished something. Fingers tightening audibly around the hilt of my sword, I charge. I wonder if I am magnificent, as my sword cuts upward into the belly of the worm. Gods know what exactly the thick warmth that spills onto me is. I slice sideways and distinguish the strangled roar of the worm before it all crashes down on top of me.  
  
Suffocation is something terrible. It is so difficult not to panic. I panic now. I don't even know what's happened, can't process why there is darkness and heat and no air. I scream but only manage to whimper and my hands dig into pliable course flesh but I cannot find a way out. Trapped. No air. Trapped. Havetogetouthavetobreatheohgodsohgodspleasesomeonehelpme . . . cantbreathe.  
  
"CLOUD!"  
  
"Seph . . ."  
  
  
  
//"Tell me a story?"  
  
"I don't know any good stories, only proverbs and parables I had to memorize when I was younger."  
  
"I don't mind. I want to hear."  
  
"Very well. Have you heard the story about the Tortoise and the Eagle?"  
  
"No, tell me."  
  
"The Tortoise is a ground-living creature. It is impossible to be nearer to the ground without being under it. Its horizons are only a few inches away. It has about as good a turn of speed as you need to hunt down a lettuce. It has survived while the rest of evolution flowed past it by being, on the whole, no threat to anyone and too much trouble to eat.  
  
"And then there is the Eagle. A creature of the air and high places, whose horizons go all the way to the edge of the world. Eyesight keen enough to spot the rustle of some small and squeaky creature half a mile away. All power, all control. Lightning death on wings. Talons and claws enough to make a meal of anything smaller than it is and at least take a hurried snack out of anything bigger.  
  
"And yet the Eagle will sit for hours on a crag and survey the kingdoms of the world until it spots a distant movement and then it will focus, focus, /focus/ on the small shell wobbling among the bushes down there on the desert and it will /leap/ . . .  
  
"And a minute later the Tortoise finds the world dropping away from it. And it sees the world for the first time, no longer one inch from the ground but five hundred feet above it, and it thinks: what a great friend I have in the Eagle.  
  
"And then the Eagle lets go.  
  
"And almost always the Tortoise plunges to its death. Everyone knows why the tortoise does this. Gravity is a habit hard to shake off. No one knows why the Eagle does this. There's good eating on a Tortoise but, considering the effort involved, there's much better eating on practically anything else. It's simply the delight of Eagles to torment Tortoises.  
  
"But of course, what the Eagle does not realize is that it is participating in a very crude form of natural selection.  
  
"One day a Tortoise will learn how to fly."  
  
"Sephiroth?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Will you ever drop me?"  
  
"Will I ever drop you?"  
  
"Well, you've let me fly, let me see the world. You wont drop me, will you?"  
  
" . . . No, I wont drop you. But last time I checked, you weren't a tortoise and I wasn't an eagle."  
  
"Maybe not, but it's the same thing. Before you I had nothing, I /was/ nothing."  
  
" . . . I disagree with you. You're everything, and you know it."  
  
"Just as long as you don't drop me."//  
  
A sharp slap to the face and my eyes flicker open. There are magenta spots on a black plane, that's all I see.  
  
"Cloud, wake up."  
  
The voice sounds distressed and I don't know what could possibly be wrong, I was having such a nice dream. "Mmmm, lemme sleep for five more minutes."  
  
I hear a weary sigh of relief and a small laugh. "Cloud, look at me."  
  
My eyes focus on the solemn man before me and the first thing I notice is that his face is exposed, the red kerchief that normally hides his features is hung low around his neck. He has full lips, high cheekbones, just like Sephiroth. "I am, looking Vincent. And you know what I see? I see Sephiroth, and that hurts." I look away quickly before I start to cry and I see the swollen, parasitic body of a sand worm. It's insides are strewn all over . . . everywhere, including on me. I groan and try to wipe off some of the gore from my face. "What happened?" I look back at Vincent and his face is entirely concealed. I feel guilty.  
  
"The thing collapsed on you after you gutted it. I was afraid you were going to suffocate for a moment." His tone is completely neutral but if I look at his eyes, he is afraid and hurt.  
  
"Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'll be more careful. And sorry, about ya know . . . but you do look a lot like Him." I pick a clump of thick worm skin from my left arm.  
  
He shrugs and gets up. "Let's get out of this desert and get you cleaned up. I suppose we can take the long way and stop at the river. Can you walk?"  
  
"I think so." I'm amazed that such a simple apology can appease him so quickly, but then maybe I just can't see what's going on in his mind as well as I could a moment ago. I get to my feet and I'm sore and tired and I want to sleep some more, dream some more. "I haven't been this sore since training back in the barracks." My hands are bloody, no fixing that right now.  
  
He begins walking to the chocobos a short distance away. "Turk training was the same. There were times when my muscles ached so badly I couldn't walk at all."  
  
This catches me completely off guard. I forget about my disgusting physical state and realize that Vincent telling me something about his past, what brought that on? I fumble in the conversation and try to pick it up again, keep him talking. "Yeah? What kind of training did they make you do?"  
  
"Strange tests of endurance and strength. Running through the slums for hours upon hours and then combat training, sniper training, and tactics. What did they make you do?"  
  
I briefly try to figure why Vincent is telling me things, maybe the whole open honesty thing again, or maybe he's trying to spur my mind into remembering things. "We had obstacle courses mostly. And when we weren't doing those, we sparred with each other. I used to spar with Zack a lot, and he used to spar with Seph . . . Oh! I remember now!"  
  
He turns and cocks an eyebrow at me but says nothing.  
  
"I, well one time Zack talked me into going to watch him and The General spar, I mean up close. I used to watch from far away but /never/ up close. I was nervous because . . . well, remember I fainted?"  
  
He nods.  
  
"I was afraid I'd do something to embarrass myself. I sat huddled up in the corner and ran to get water for them when they asked. They didn't really pay attention to me, Zack was too busy getting his ass kicked and The General, well, he wouldn't notice someone like me anyways. But after they were done, Zack kinda just dropped and lay panting on the floor, and Sephiroth turned my way and he /stared/ at me. It felt like that with just that one look, He knew everything about me. But he wouldn't stop looking at me and His eyes took in all of me, he was looking at /all/ of me. I, I think I must have blushed horribly because He looked amused, now that I think about it. He asked me if I wanted to spar with Him."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"No! I would have died. I mean He wouldn't have killed me or anything, but the second I got within three feet of Him I would have dropped dead."  
  
"What happened after you declined?"  
  
"He helped me up and I was pissed because He made me look like an ass in front of Clo-. . . Never mind." I don't know when exactly my perspective shifts, but it's blatant that it did. I remember after sparring, Sephiroth and I went up to His quarters, who exactly 'I' is I'm not sure. From the way He was looking at me, He very well may have invited me up. He wanted me, probably because I was pretty, but even then, I knew He wanted me. Would I have gone? Zack would have, but he may have been too tired. But then, if He /had/ asked me to go up, I'm certain I would have. Not because I particularly wanted to, I would have been scared shitless, but I would never /think/ to disobey The General. So, that memory may have been mine. That may have been the first or the only time I was with Sephiroth. But then, it may have been Zack's memory too. Lovers burning off extra energy after a spar, it happened all the time in ShinRa.  
  
"Cloud? Were you and Zack, involved in any way?"  
  
I blush and I wonder if my skin had burned enough under the desert sun that he might not be able to tell. "Yeah. But it was mostly we were friends and had a few, ya know, extra activities planned at night." A thread of read drool drips from my hair and I bat it away, wipe my hands on my pants, then notice that I have only succeeded in adding /more/ guts to my hands. I find that I would rather leave and get clean that discuss my jumbled past.  
  
"Did Sephiroth have many people that he slept with?"  
  
Vincent's bluntness makes me feel naïve as I'm /still/ embarrassed to talk about that kind of thing. People always told me I was too innocent, they were right. "I dunno really, I don't remember."  
  
"I see. Well, we should head out."  
  
"Yeah, that'd be good. Sorry I can't remember much right now."  
  
"Don't worry, everything will come back in time."  
  
" . . . That's what I'm afraid of."  
  
A/N: Apologies if this was boring. 


	5. Five

// / "Fancy meeting you here, Cloud Strife."  
  
I come here to get away from everyone, for some reason I'm the only cadet that gets overwhelmed by all the tests and work and obstacle courses, sexual harassment and drugs and alcohol. I guess I can't get away though, at least not in Midgar. Nothing was ever like this back home, with Mother and Tifa. Kids thought they were so badass just because they could pick a fight or throw rocks at the town truck. I'd like to see just one of those kids with a hypodermic needle full of mako enhanced drugs and see how long it takes them to either run home crying for their mothers or overdose. Just once, I'd like to have some gigantic SOLDIER pinch one of those damn kids on the ass and order them to kneel down on the floor.  
  
Speaking of ass pinching, the voice that has addressed me sounds a little suggestive. Deep voice, slightly strained, heady. "What do you want?" I find that being passive aggressive and an asshole is a major turn off for those lusty SOLDIERs that only really want someone to be close to. I do not deign myself to turn around to see whose speaking to me.  
  
"Hmm, I've seen you. Just around places, mostly with my lieutenant."  
  
I freeze. His lieutenant? That means . . . "Oh fuck."  
  
I hear Him laugh and I turn so red that I bury my face in my hands and struggle for air. "Problems Strife?"  
  
"Oh . . . fuck."  
  
Another slight chuckle and this time I tilt my head just slightly and see perfection eyeing me with no surreptitiousness at all and He is /very/ beautiful. I cannot tear my eyes from that beauty and I sit there with my mouth gaping open. The General of ShinRa incorporate is alone with me in a courtyard /speaking/ to me. Oh, fuck. "I've been watching you, Cloud Strife. And I think you're progressing well."  
  
I don't even hear him.  
  
"And while I have been watching you train and watching your technique improve and your skills enhance, I've also noticed a few other thing about you, things that I like." He moves then and His body is fluid and graceful. I am paralyzed with conflicting emotions (fear, lust, desire, love, terror, confusion). I can only squeak a little when he kneels at my side and looks into my eyes.  
  
I've never met anyone with eyes like mine. I hate my eyes. If anyone looks in my eyes, they know exactly what's going on in my head. For people like /Him/, he already knows what I'm thinking as it is, my eyes only serve to confirm the fact. He reaches out and touches my cheek experimentally. My will power, my self-control is swept away completely like sand in the wind. I grip His hand closer to my cheek with my own and a tear slides down my face. He wipes it away with a feather light, gloved touch. "Are you in love with me Strife?"  
  
The question catches me off guard. But why lie? He knows anyway, He just wants me to say it, He wants my walls to crumble, He wants me to be passive in His grip. He wants me. "Y-yes Sir, I love you."  
  
His hand, still on my cheek moves in a caress and I shudder and inch closer to Him. "Good to know Cloud. I usually don't allow myself to fall in love with cadets, but you are different. You are beautiful and strong, a perfect SOLDIER candidate. I think it would please you to know that I have indeed allowed myself to fall in love with you."  
  
My eyes snap open and gaze into His eyes and they are soft and earnest. He leans forward just a little and I part my lips in anticipation to the kiss . . ./  
  
"Cloud! Wake up or you're gonna be late for breakfast!"  
  
I open my eyes and there are tears there. I stare into the bleak, stifling darkness of our quarters, me and the other cadets. Just a dream, another delusional, insane, mind rending dream. Of course it was a dream! The General loving someone like me ridiculous. Just let it go, let it go. No matter how many times I tell myself this, no matter how many times I have this dream, I always try and make things okay by trying to pass everything as a crazy dream. But there is truth in dreams, I love Him. No one can deny that.  
  
"You hear me Cloud? Zack will be pissed at you if you're late for training, I heard he was gonna use you as an example today. C'mon, get dressed. They're serving sausage for breakfast, I know you can't wait. I'll meet you there okay?"  
  
I do not say anything; only try to wipe the tears from my eyes. So close, I could feel His breath on my lips. Always so close. I squeeze my eyes shut and I roll out of bed to wallow in my love-sick misery.//  
  
  
  
Waking up on a chocobo is the most bizarre thing that anyone can ever experience. How anyone can even fall asleep on a chocobo is beyond me, but I did. I've been doing a lot of things lately that I thought no one could do. But waking up and being suddenly aware of just how jumbled your body and thoughts are and seeing the landscape fly by so quickly that you can't even be sure it is there at all is just /strange/. I'm glad my bird simply follows Vincent and I'm amazed that I haven't fallen off yet.  
  
I, still clinging to the neck of my bird precariously, reach up cautiously to wipe my eyes and try to return a sense of reason to my mind. We're approaching North Corel steadily. For the first time I wonder if I'm famous, if anyone knows who I am or what I did. Would I be hailed as a hero? I hope not, I pray that what I've done hasn't reached the eyes and ears of others. They would adore me, but I wouldn't. I hate myself. I miss Sephiroth; I just want to be with him, in his arms. Just once, or possibly just one more time.  
  
"Cloud?" Vincent calls to me from ahead on the chocobo, deep resounding voice in my head all around me.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm going to stop in Corel to gather some provisions and such. Is there something in particular you need?"  
  
I dare myself to say it. "A newspaper. And some alcohol, something good and strong." Corel has good liquor mainly because after the accident, almost everyone instantly became a raving alcoholic. Are things looking up for them, those lost souls? It doesn't matter though. They should have died, only if it would have kept my angel alive.  
  
"Very well. I'd like it if you stayed outside of town, as you still look a little less than presentable. I wouldn't want to cause a disturbance."  
  
"That's fine. I don't want to see anyone anyways." As an afterthought, I look at my hands and my shirt. I'm still grotesque. Worm guts rot in the sun. "Please hurry, as trivial as it is I'd really like to get clean."  
  
I look up and realize that he has slowed enough so that he is only a few paces in front of me, his bird walking casually. He stares at me and it looks as if he might say something, but he turns away again and remains silent.  
  
"What?"  
  
He turns his eyes toward me again and I see resolve there. "To be honest with you, I was going to suggest that you venture off to the river by yourself, seeing as how it's not far from here. However, I do not trust you. Not after what happened earlier today. I wont let you die when I know that you still have a life ahead of you."  
  
I scoff. A life ahead of me. A life of decaying in a slimy cave? I'm fine with that if he is. I guess I'll try not to die yet, indulge Vincent for a little while longer, he has been very good to me, it's only what he deserves. And I do feel guilty about it. I remember his voice, how desperate and terrified he sounded. I've never once seen Vincent shake off that indefatigable calm. Always composed, cool, cold. He was really that worried about me? That afraid that I would die? "Hey Vincent?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm sorry, about earlier. I know that you've been trying hard to help me, but it hurts so much. I feel so cold and alone /all the time/. Sometimes I just want it to stop." I don't even try to stop crying anymore, if you try not to cry then you just end up looking uglier and stupider in the end. I look up at Vincent through the shimmering, tear-heat of my eyes. His head is bowed and I can almost /feel/ the grief radiating from him; a near tangible manifestation of whatever it is he feels for me.  
  
"Don't apologize for your behavior Cloud. It is I who you should blame. I'm not accustomed to trying to help people, or understanding their emotions so I haven't been able to help you at all really." A pause. "I'm so very sorry, Cloud."  
  
My mind spirals down into some emotion that I cannot describe. Horrible grief and betrayal coalesces with this terrible longing. I want to go to him, hold him, make him realize that he shouldn't be sorry, that it isn't his fault. I wonder if it would be so wrong of me to just touch him, just once for a little while. I wouldn't really be betraying Sephiroth if I just touched another human, would I? Sephiroth was never really angry with me before, for being with other people. And-what the fuck am I talking about, I wouldn't even /be/ with Vincent, I'd just . . . I dunno, touch him. I spur my chocobo forward . . . and stop just a few paces short of him . . . and I stand there motionless. Can't touch him, remember the time when I touched him before and he didn't want it, doesn't want it now either. I reach out anyways and my hands hovers in dead air just out of reach from his shoulder. He turns wary blood-red yes to me and frowns before dismounting his bird and walking briskly into town. My hand still outstretched closes into a slow fist. He knows. Knows as well as I do, that when I pretend to want to comfort him, all I really want is Sephiroth. Inside of me, a little bit more has died.  
  
He returns shortly and tosses me a bottle of cognac with his claw before organizing what ever else he got in the pack attached to the bird. His hands move with determined deliberation. He unfastens buckles with one hand in swift, fluid movements. His clawed hand rests behind him, barely visible. I wonder why he is ashamed of it.  
  
"Don't drink that yet, you're still dehydrated and it will only make it worse."  
  
Indifferent tone, I wonder if he secretly wants to reach out to me, to hold me while I cry, rub my back and soothe my sobs. Hell, even Sephiroth had more compassion than this. Flash of white . . . then I remember, however brief, I remember.  
  
"We were going on a mission, it wasn't Nibelheim, before then. I was sick . . . we were around, some kind of mountains, but not Nibelheim, couldn't have been. I always got sick and I knew I was weak. Zack and Sephiroth didn't care though, either way they didn't care. But, I think Sephiroth might have seen just how hard I was trying to keep standing, to deal with the bumps in the road and the tossing of the truck. And we went through a big dip in the road and everyone got tossed around and I fell. Sephiroth caught me. It wasn't Zack, because I remember seeing Zack smirking in the corner and he winked at me. Sephiroth caught me and asked me if I was all right. I wanted Him to hold me, His hands were pressed against my sides, I wanted to be with Him forever. He let go too soon and I almost fell again but I kept my balance and tried not to cry. But He touched me. He never did that for anyone else, no one, not even Zack. Zack fell often enough too, but I was the only one he helped. . . I wonder why?"  
  
Vincent is staring at me with a look of seriousness.  
  
I blush. "Maybe it doesn't even mean anything, sorry, I guess I was rambling."  
  
"Everything means something, Cloud." I notice that he always says my name when he speaks to me, maybe to keep reminding me of who I am, what I'm not. "Every fragment of memory you have is a piece of a greater whole, and we need all the pieces to complete the puzzle. All I can gather from what you just told me is that perhaps Sephiroth was looking out for you, which means he had his eye on you. Possible attraction, could mean anything though really, mere impulse or, as you've brought up before, to make Zack jealous."  
  
I nod. "Yeah, maybe both."  
  
"Maybe both."  
  
"Here's your paper. I don't know why you'd want it, you knew very well what you would see."  
  
I take the paper from his him and stare at the front cover that has pictures of me and the others plastered all over the front page. Hail the conquering heroes. Reeve must have done this, made sure we received our due, and I am getting exactly what I deserve. I read the headline slowly. "REBEL GROUP DEFEATS METEOR!" I read the few first lines, unimportant really, and I notice that Sephiroth's name is conspicuously absent. I turn the page and scan the article, never once does it even mention the ex- General. I look up at Vincent.  
  
"I think Reeve knew, about you two. Very few people knew that it was Sephiroth who caused everything. Reeve told the tabloids what you see there, that we released holy and conquered the Meteor. No one will ever know about Aeris or Sephiroth." I let the paper fall to the ground and the paper flutters. Vincent starts packing again. He's bought buttons, thread, and soap. Ammunition, a bottle of something, gun oil or whatever. More cognac. A bottle of water and a canteen. Little things that only he would think to buy. A brown, leather-bound journal and a pen.  
  
"Here, you might find it in your best interests to write down all that you remember, just in case I'm not around to listen." His hand outstretched now, offering me something opposite to what I had offered him.  
  
"What do you mean if you're not around? You . . . you said you'd stay with me."  
  
"I will Cloud, for as long as you want me to. However, I do believe that I will be able to find some information in some of the towns. I assumed that you would want to stay in the forest where you won't be bothered."  
  
"Yes but, I don't want to be entirely alone. I'm afraid of being alone. I'm afraid of waking up and not knowing where I am or who I am. I hate it."  
  
"It's difficult, and solitude only manages to increase your guilt, your longing. But being with people is often more difficult. You know what I'm speaking of, I've seen the way you look at me."  
  
I turn my eyes down. Gravel, grass, dirt, seeds. "Sorry. But you did it too." Cid would have been pissed if he ever found out that Vincent had a secret crush on Shera.  
  
"I know."  
  
He says nothing else only takes one of my hands in a sterile movement and places the journal and pen into my hands and waits for me to put them away. I slide them gently into the saddlebag and kick the sides of my bird harder than necessary. I walk in front of him now, only wishing to get to a river as soon as possible.  
  
I think almost everyone has had a dream that they're drowning; I know I have. Never as if someone were drowning me, just in my dreams I somehow end up under water. I wake up gasping for air and sweating, but never afraid. I always wake up before I panic, before the water begins to fill the cavities of my lungs. I wish all nightmares were like that, where you wake up before you die. Too often I wake up just after I die, just after my world shatters, just after the angels fall. And I wake up in tears. Some nightmares you wake up sweating or crying and then you lie back down and breathe in and out, relax, only a dream. My nightmare, I only cry more. I can't believe I killed him . . . I can't believe it. What possessed me? Why me? Why anyone? Why Him? Being without Him is like living without oxygen, a constant state of panicked drowning. I drown now.  
  
I pull my head out from under the water just before I need to breathe. I like water, enjoy the feeling of drowning. I like the feeling of being completely surrounded and helpless. Reminds me of Him. Of being completely held and safe from everything save for Him. Of being at His disposal and loving the gentle stream in Him but half wishing to be completely swept away by some typhoon, to be so lost within Him that there is no hope of ever being found. Maybe I already was drowned. Maybe I died in Him and can't ever come back. I think so. I will never be able to really be alive again. I'm surprised I'm not more insane than I already am.  
  
The water is cold and rather than restore my senses, it freezes them. The trees around me, I see leaves moving but I cannot hear them. All I hear is water. I take my shirt off and put in the water, still holding it so it doesn't get washed away. It's the only shirt I have. Most of the filth on my shirt washes away. I wish my soul was like that, that I could wash it clean and start over the next day.  
  
I look up at Vincent, wondering if he's watching me. His eyes are trained on the forest, peering into the trees as he stands sentry. My guardian. I remove my boots and socks. A desert of sand pours from them. I rinse out my socks and set my boots aside. I look back at Vincent again, he taps his gun with his claw and paces before the trees. I sigh and unbutton my pants. Of course we've done this hundreds of times before, stood watch for one another while we bathed in some lake or river, tried to get the blood from under our nails or the stench of death from our skin. I wonder if I'll be able to keep watch for Vincent, if I'll be able to protect him if something comes. I hate to rely on adrenaline. I slide out of my pants and wade into the water. My clothes are decidedly safe from being swept downstream as I have them stuck on some shallow rocks. Heedless of the cold I step into the water until it reaches my chest. It really is freezing, I wonder why, it used to be so warm down here, even in winter. Vincent is watching me from the corner of his eye, probably to make sure I don't try to drown myself. I still don't know why he wont just let me die. He wants to do what's best for me and maybe the best thing would be death. Is the Promised Land real? Is Sephiroth there? He deserves it, and so do I, just for all the things we've been forced to endure, we deserve it. I feel bitter towards Vincent for a long moment then realize that he must have his reasons for not letting me die. He's been through this before. He's still watching me. I dunk my head again and push my fingers through my hair and watch as bits of tissue come off on my hands. Will I ever be clean?  
  
Tired of thinking . . . kinda want to sleep. I have slept but it's been a restless sleep full of dreams and memories. I just want to pass out for a few hours. I remember the cognac. It'll be a good way to spend the afternoon after traveling for so long. Until then I'll just pretend that the water rushing past me is fingers touching me and sliding against me, or strands of hair brushing against my naked skin. Surrounded completely, safe forever.  
  
I take a long time to finish. I let the soap Vincent bought slide over my skin and through my hair. I sit in the water and set my clothes out to dry. When I do finish, Vincent averts his gaze. As if I really care. I get some kind of stupid pride about the fact that I'm not afraid to be seen naked and I stroll over to the trees and wait for my clothes to dry. Vincent eyes the water, wanting to get clean. Vincent was always the watch but I never saw him actually bathe. Whether he never did or did it in secret is anyone's guess, but I watch him now, just to see. I quickly lose interest though as it takes him about five minutes to remove his boots and belts. He is all buckles and buttons and metal, too complicated, don't even want to have to process his actions, looks like too much effort. Instead I focus on how cold it is. A breeze, however slight, can make you freezing if you happen to be wet. The sun does little for me. I walk over to my chocobo and remove the saddle and take the blanket out from beneath it. I never thought chocobos would sweat much, but they do. I don't really care though. I throw the blanket over my shoulders and sit down.  
  
Vincent is painstakingly removing the wrap of red cloth from his head and face. He's very shy about his body. I probably would be too but then again I did have to undergo SOLDIER training. Up to five hundred naked guys in the completely exposed shower stalls back at HQ. After awhile you get used to the idea of people's eyes wandering over your naked flesh. There was a rule we had. No one could give anyone a hickey unless you were an officer. If you had a hickey that meant that you were taken by some higher authorities and were therefore untouchable. I got teased and harassed a lot at first, but then it stopped. Maybe Zack did it, maybe Sephiroth left his mark, I don't remember. Vincent faces away from me so I can't see his face, it appears as if he is unbuttoning his shirt. I remember I used to flounce around the shower rooms with bruises all over my body, knowing that no one could touch me or if they did then they would soon find themselves skewered at the end of a very large sword. Whether Buster sword or Masamune, who knows. Vincent lets his shirt slide off his shoulders. His skin is pale but flawless he glances back at me and hesitates visibly. I don't say anything. I loved being untouchable, I used to be able to watch people while they showered and make them blush but they couldn't say anything. If they did I'd sick Zack on them and then they would suffer. Zack could be supremely aggressive. Or maybe I'd run and cry to the mighty General, in which case whoever had bothered me would find themselves as the Queen of Latrine for five months straight and demoted five ranks. I look down now though, just because Vincent looks so vulnerable.  
  
There are lots of things on the ground that maybe not a lot of people notice. Like there's always about a million ants running around and you can see them best if you blur your eyes and just see movement. There are lots of tiny pieces of dead grass, nearly white they are such a pale yellow. There are tiny black beetles. I used to . . . Zack used to catch them and put them in mazes he'd make out of sticks and things. They never used to make it out so he'd just let them go after they got boring. I loved Zack. He had so much mercy, even if they were just beetles he could have killed them. So kind and gentle. . . so terribly loyal. I look up now without really intending too and I see Vincent wading knee deep in the water. Vincent is beautiful, and I think this strictly in an observational sense, like looking at a butterfly or a . . . tree or something. He's not beautiful like Sephiroth, because Sephiroth was so beautiful that everyone lusted after Him and had secret shrines to Him in under their beds. Vincent is a little bit softer looking and though he is well-muscled, cannot really compare to my angel. I'm relieved by all this. By seeing how they are different rather than struggling for things that are the same. I don't even notice the claw, there are other parts of him that are more interesting.  
  
He turns slightly and I don't try and hide the fact that I am staring at him. He stares back, looking reproachful. "Just wanted to make sure you don't drown yourself!" I call and he turns away without so much as a shake of the head. By just being around Zack, I learned to be a pain in the ass. I used to raise hell back in training, that is after Zack became my friend. My years of alienation and shyness back home were made up for by being a completely obnoxious and pugnacious brat. I used to fight a lot and . . . should I be writing this down? May as well. I reach for the saddle that I had previously discarded and rummage through the bag attached to it. I jot some notes, then draw a little, then watch Vincent, then switch back. My attention span is gone. I am reminded of some of the junkies that were expelled from the program. I write. They would disappear for days on drug binges. They came back and kinda hobbled around and fell asleep on their feet and picked at the skin on their faces and arms until it was raw. When asked a question it took a few moments before their eyes lost the glazed affect and they'd respond with something like "huh?" or "who the hell . . ." Sephiroth didn't believe in the destruction of one's own body, though he himself was rightly accused of being a little more than fond of the bottle. He did drink a lot, but I can understand why. He had an awful life, if I were him I'd do more than drink. I start to remember some of the stories He told me about what Hojo did to Him. He only told me because I made Him feel guilty for keeping things from me, as I remember. What He told me, if was horrible. I repress those memories before they swell in my mind. I've always had a horribly graphic imagination, which is why I managed to keep all of Zack's stories in my mind so vividly. I look back up at Vincent who is washing his hair modestly. I look back down at my paper the last thing I wrote was about drug addicts . . . what the fuck? The journal would work better if I knew what the hell I was talking about . . . maybe I really am crazy.  
  
Looking at things makes it easier to live day by day. Focus on the now, only observations, never events, never the past. Like rights now Vincent is wading out of the water and he is facing me, looking at me to see if I'm looking at him. I don't look at his body though. I look at his face. His hair used to cover his face when he was a Turk, I think I know why he had it that way. So people wouldn't see how pretty he is. Full lips, high cheekbones, eyes that once must have been a soft brown, or a mahogany. I bet he has perfect teeth too, like Sephiroth.  
  
"You really think I look that much like him?"  
  
The voice startles me and I hadn't realized that Vincent had approached me enough to speak with me. He takes my idea and removes the saddle of his chocobo, trying not to act hurried. He turns away completely, not that it matters. I wonder if he can read my mind. "I don't know, let me see."  
  
He freezes and the action is more visible as I can see every muscle in his body tense. He throws the saddle down in an irreverent movement and flaps the blanket out once. Dirt flies from it. He throws it over his shoulder and wraps himself in it. He relaxes then and turns his face to me. Same eyes, though a different color. Same shape to the face, same nose. Same height and build. If Vincent wielded a seven foot blade I'm sure he'd be as muscular as Sephiroth was. "Yeah, you do look like him, a lot."  
  
"Oh." He sits beside me. Pretty close too. He's probably cold, or no, probably doesn't want me to get cold. He hesitates in his speech.  
  
"Does it bother you that you look like Him?"  
  
He shakes his head and his eyes are thoughtful, lips pursed into a disdainful line.  
  
I know what he's thinking because I've speculated upon it myself. Vincent is His father, almost anyone could deduce as much. I don't say it though, wait for him too. I bet it adds to his guilt about Lucrecia and about me. I wonder how it feels to see your only son, so beautiful, die. Vincent opens his mouth a little to speak and I go very still, wonder what he has to say.  
  
"Perhaps we should get the cognac out."  
  
I shrug, may as well. "Think the others might still be following us?" I look up just in case the Highwind is hovering over us as we speak. Vincent reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out the bottle. I hadn't pegged Vincent as a drinker but then he /was/ a Turk after all. No such thing as a sober Turk.  
  
"No, if they wanted to find us that badly then they would have done it. I'm sure they understand Cloud."  
  
They don't understand, they don't even /know/. I wonder what they would have done if I'd told them. Cid's cigarette would have dropped from his mouth and Barret would have stuttered for a moment before screaming profanities. Tifa would have turned away so I wouldn't see her crying. I betrayed her, love the man who killed her father and destroyed her home. Cait Shih would have . . . well I think Reeve knew, probably did some enough snooping around HQ and understood enough about the lives of cadets to figure out what was going on. Yuffie probably wouldn't have cared, but then she may have hated me because Sephiroth did kind of cause the ruination of Wutai. Nanaki might have understood, just because he was wise enough and knew about the bonds between people. Vincent knows, always knew. Aeris . . . I wonder how things would have turned out differently if she had known, or maybe she did know. She would have understood, it wasn't in her nature to hate. I blink my eyes and realize that Vincent has been staring at me, strange to see him without his face covered. "Oh, I was just thinking, nothing important."  
  
He nods and hands me the bottle. I usually don't drink cognac, but who cares right now. I take a few quick swallows. I learned how to take shots really well from Zack. And I got my ear pierced with Zack. It'd be nice if he was here, he'd talk to me and hold me, tell me comforting things, even if they were lies.  
  
"Do you feel like talking?"  
  
I don't, not really, but Vincent wants to help me and I should let him. I nod.  
  
"Do you remember the first time you met Zack?"  
  
Maybe he can read my mind. Or maybe it's just that he can read me that well or maybe it's coincidence. "Yeah. I was assigned to his squad. He was so cool, all the cadets adored him. Plus he was the nicest officer in the entire military. Everyone could go to Zack for advice or extra training, a night out on the town, anything. It probably exhausted him but he never showed it. He actually approached me first and told me to brighten up a little. That I'd never make into SOLDIER if I didn't have a positive attitude and a willingness to work with others. He was perfectly nice about it and I think I just nodded and stared at the floor . . ."  
  
/"You're just shy aren't you?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Where are you from again?"  
  
I flinch. "Nibelheim."  
  
He laughs and I flinch more. "I'll tell you something if you promise to keep it a secret."  
  
I look up at him and nod.  
  
He leans close to my ear and whispers. "I'm from Gongaga."  
  
I stare at him for a moment . . . wow, Gongaga.  
  
"I know it's strange coming from some hick town to Midgar of all places, but the best thing to do is take it in stride and use the opportunity to meet new people and try new things."  
  
I back away when he says 'new things'. The fact that nearly the entire military was either gay or bisexual had freaked me out at first just because I was taught that those kinda things were wrong and I was still trying to suppress an obvious physical attraction for The General. The 'new things' that the boys in the shower had done to me weren't all that great, but I don't say so, I just stare at my feet and realize that my shoe is untied and wonder if he'll mark me off points for it.  
  
"You listenin' Cloud?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Hey I tell you what, why don't we go get some chow and I'll teach you a few pointers."  
  
My head snaps up. "You mean like a date?"  
  
He laughs, long and hard. "No no, not like a date. Like I'm your teacher and you're my student and you have a lot of potential but you're too shy for your own good. That is unless you want it to be a date."  
  
I shake my head no.  
  
"All right, you wanna go then?"  
  
I nod tentatively.  
  
He chuckles. "Don't be afraid to speak up, I'm not gonna demote you or anything like that."//  
  
" . . . then we went to some diner and ate food and he talked to me a lot about Wutai. I got a little bolder and started asking about The General. He caught on pretty quick, that I was infatuated with Sephiroth, but I guess a lot of boys my age were. He started training me after that."  
  
Vincent nods. "When did you two start to become involved."  
  
I shake my head and smile. "As soon as I realized that it was okay, that he wouldn't hurt me." I conversation is heading in a direction that I don't want it to. Vincent will ask me something about Sephiroth or my child-hood or something else I don't like to talk about. "So enough about me, we always talk about me. What about you?"  
  
He takes the cognac from my slack hand and drinks for a long moment. Probably stalling so he can gather an appropriate response. "What's to know?"  
  
I shrug. "Where are you from anyways?"  
  
He looks up at me and his eyes are cold, though not directed towards me. "Junon."  
  
"Do you have family there?"  
  
"I did once."  
  
"Why'd you end up becoming a Turk?"  
  
"It was the best way to leave home."  
  
"Why'd you wanna leave?" I realize that I'm just trying to drill him with questions to piss him off. I wonder how far I can push him.  
  
"No reason really. I was trying to be rebellious so I left for Midgar and got a job shooting pigeons in a parking lot on the upper plate."  
  
He's lying, his past just could not really be that boring . . . could it? I seize the bottle and drink a few quick, sloppy gulps. Damn mako twenty times over for dulling the effects of alcohol. I drink some more and consider breaking out the other bottle. I wonder if we look funny sitting here naked wrapped in dirty blankets. Maybe some kids are hiding in a bush, pointing and laughing right now. Oh well, at least that was /someone/ would be having fun. "When's the last time you slept?"  
  
He shrugs.  
  
"Whatever. Let's just sleep for a few hours, we can make it to the Frog Forest by tomorrow right."  
  
He nods and still has the pensive look on his face.  
  
I turn on my side away from him and wrap the blanket tighter around me, it smells like greens. I use my arms as a pillow and drift slowly off to sleep, hoping that the alcohol will at least still my dreams.  
  
"Good night, Cloud."  
  
"G'night."  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N to Lauren: Ahh! Lauren!! I've tried to e-mail you the lemon like 80 times but every time I do it the mailer demon or whatever keeps sending it back telling me that your e-mail doesn't exist. So I make sure it's all spelled right and it still doesn't work, then I try copy and paste from your review and it /still/ doesn't work!! So I dunno if I'm just a colossal dumbass or what. If there's another way I can give it to you let me know or maybe you can see if someone else will e-mail it to you. . . sorry, please don't think I'm an ass!! 


	6. Six

Chapter Five  
  
  
  
I want to clear away and sever this vulnerability Don't want to be overwhelmed by this anymore. Revelation of our reflections Runs us sharp like a blade pressed tight So we should ignore how to walk the line today Escape the withering spirit and be free.  
  
//"No, now try again, this time from the left."  
  
How did this happen? What the hell was I thinking? This is all Zack's fault, he manipulated me /again/. I've gotta stop him from doing that to me. It was bad enough when he dared me to start the rumor that Heidegger was actually a woman. Things got even worse when I hit that guy over the head with a bottle for calling me skinny, and the bottle didn't even break, damn glass. Should've known I could stand up for myself /without/ being violent, but no, Zack insisted that if I was gonna be a man I'd start a proper bar fight, and I did. But this, right now, this is fucking ridiculous.  
  
I rush the General and close my eyes.  
  
"How can you see your target if your eyes are closed?"  
  
I open my eyes and stop dead in my tracks, fuck rushing Him; I'll just stare at Him instead. The bitchy thing about Him is that I'm not entirely sure He realizes that He is the single most gorgeous creature to ever grace the Planet with His existence. See now if He realized He was beautiful then He might understand my current state of dumbness. I watch as He puts a hand on His hip and shifts His weight, He actually does this a lot; it's more fun to watch from behind though. I realize that this is His disapproval stance. And I shake my head quickly, close my eyes again, and slash my sword through dead air. I'm vaguely aware of Zack laughing his ass off in the corner.  
  
"Cloud, open your eyes and I said from the /left/."  
  
I crack an eye open and Sephiroth is frowning down at me and then turns toward Zack with a look that says, "Why the fuck did you bring me this kid?" I almost start to hyperventilate. When Zack told me that he had planned a special training session between Sephiroth and me, I almost died then drank a bottle of cold medicine. Good thing too, I'm disconnected and groggy enough to be merely mortified as opposed to painfully aroused or in love or dying.  
  
"Come on Cloud! Don't be intimidated by the General! You don't want him to think you're stupid and weak do you."  
  
Sometimes I really hate Zack . . . a lot. If he's trying to hook me up then he's failing miserably. I sort of feel like crawling under my bunk and staying there forever.  
  
"Why don't you let him try it on /you/ then?"  
  
I look up at Sephiroth and it's difficult to see, but he's angry with Zack. He realizes that /I'm/ angry with Zack too. Oh this'll be sweet. Even if I'm shorter, weaker, less qualified, and less experienced, I am going to beat Zack's ass. He deserves it and then maybe . . . maybe Sephiroth won't think I'm stupid and weak. Maybe He'll even be impressed. And then if he's impressed He might mentor me, or better yet invite me up to His apartments and come up from behind me to tell me how talented and strong and beautiful I am before massaging my shoulders and kissing my neck. And then I could turn to Him and confess my undying love and He'd tell me about His own secret burning desire. Oh! And then we would--"  
  
"Cloud! Quit spacing out! I told you not to take that cold medicine. Now come on, before I tell the whole company that you're a sniveling little girl!"  
  
As if I really needed more incentive to kick his ass. I hope all those zero to hero stories are true and that emotions are all you need to fight well. I've gathered enough information around the barracks to figure out Zack's weaknesses. He's very ticklish . . . that's about it. There are others, but they're too complicated and I'd have to be good enough to trap him, plus I'd have to know nearly every form of martial arts in the world, which I don't. I do know that I'm more slippery that he is, I've wiggled out of a death hold or a bear hug of Zack's more times than I can count. So I rush him, he blocks me, and I step on his foot. Hard. "You're in for it you ass." I whisper this so my pretty angel can't hear me.  
  
"What'd I do?" He brings his hand up to palm the back of my neck in an affectionate motion. He bumps his forehead to mine. The gesture is used often before sparring among the upper ranks; it demonstrates friendship and equality. He looks me in the eyes quickly conveying a silent, serious message. I know what he's thinking. He grabs my waist in a quick movement attempts to throw me down on the mat.  
  
"Feigning innocence Zack? That's getting so old. Try something new." I hop to my feet and as Zack lunges for me I jump back down and roll under him. I spring up behind him and just as he turns, I grab his ribs and start tickling him.  
  
"Not fair! Not faaaiiiirrr!!!!" He collapses on the floor laughing. "Cloud you ass!"  
  
"You're the ass! Just let me know when you give up."  
  
"I give up, now quit it! I can't breathe!"  
  
I stop tickling him and shoot him a dirty look before turning just slightly to see if Sephiroth is fuming or laughing. Of course by now I've gotten a little bit more used to the sight and sound of The General, as I watch Him train and follow Zack around enough to meetings and lectures that I see Him more than Zack does.  
  
He is unreadable, doesn't look angry though, so I guess that's good. A small alarm on his watch goes off and he glances at it and pushes a button; so very graceful. "Shit." He mutters, realizing he must be late for some appointment. "Well let's hope that Zack's learned his lesson, right Cloud?"  
  
I blush. He does the little half frown-smirk thing that I think is cute. I blush more and Zack starts laughing. Sephiroth strides to the door with a quiet, confident grace. Every movement, the slight raise of an eyebrow or the whisper of clothing as he shifts commands attention. I wonder why Zack isn't in love with Him too. So beautiful and elegant, how could you not be? I bite my lip.  
  
"Something wrong Cloud? I thought that went well."  
  
"Yeah it did, I guess. But, I mean, do you think that He's . . . beautiful?"  
  
He tosses his head back and laughs. "Yeah, Cloud. I do."  
  
"So you like Him?"  
  
"I like him the same way you do, but I think you're in love with him more than I am." He grows sober. "I really am trying to help you. It hurts me Cloud, to see you long for something that much. You know I'd give you anything if I could."  
  
I smile. "I know Zack, and thanks. Oh and thanks for letting me win."  
  
He grins and throws an arm around my shoulder. "Any time, only no more tickling. Deal?"  
  
"Deal."//  
  
I used to get the feeling that whenever I woke up, something had caused that to happen. Some tremble of earth or quiet sounds. Surely, some attacker was after me, or some natural disaster was about to occur. I know what wakes me up now. The cold, it's freezing out. I glance up into the frosty chill of star sky and let my breath puff before me. Corel was never this cold . . . never. Hell we're even closer to the Gold Saucer than we are to Corel, and it's still cold. I huddle up in my blankets and remember that my clothes were supposed to be drying on the banks. They've probably got little shards of ice stuck to them now. Far from dry. My chocobo is seated quietly to my left, offering a little heat, and Vincent is to my right, offering less heat. Amazing how cold someone can be, physically and emotionally. I used to wonder if he was a reanimated corpse, but I've seen him bleed, seen him cry out in pain too often for him to be a corpse or a vampire. I wonder if he's cold now, if his chocobo is keeping him warm enough. Maybe he doesn't get cold.  
  
I roll over and peer at him. He his huddled in a relatively small ball surrounded by his one blanket. Not asleep, breathing to erratic to be asleep.  
  
"Cold?"  
  
"I didn't know you were awake."  
  
"I wasn't until now."  
  
"What woke you?"  
  
God that voice . . . Sephiroth may have said the same thing to me at one point. Seems so familiar. "Its fucking cold."  
  
"It's always coldest before dawn."  
  
"That late?"  
  
"Yes. See that constellation there?" One slender naked arm creeps out from beneath the warmth of his blanket. My eyes follow the path of his gesture and I see the deep purple-blue nebula at the southeastern horizon. Above it is a cluster of stars that he must be pointing to. "That's Leviathan."  
  
I smile. Yuffie took no longer than three seconds to seize the Leviathan after . . . the battle. Leviathan was always one of my favorites. "I remember. He appears right before the dawn to guide his people from the world of dreams into the world of reality. The world of the day." I realize the irony there, and wonder if I might finally be delivered from my dreams to reality. "Ya know Vincent. If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd know anything at all. I wouldn't even know which is truly real; this, right here or what I dream. All I have to remember now is that, if Vincent is there, then I know it's real."  
  
He turns to look at me and I smile. His face is covered by the blanket with only his eyes to be seen. "I'm very glad I can be of such assistance."  
  
He is painfully sincere, as if he had been pondering that his endeavors were in vain. "Surely you've seen improvement in me." I whisper, I don't know why, perhaps because of my own fear. Have I been improving or worsening? Do I want to improve?  
  
"Only in some ways Cloud, I will not lie to you about this. You've overcome your initial grief and can now at least take care of yourself better. Before you hadn't eaten in a week, and you didn't even notice. Yet though you have been improving there, I fear your mind is still only a labyrinthine tangle of memories and dreams. A tangled vine, in a sense. The vine grows, you remember more, but everything becomes more knotted. That's what we should work on now . . . the deciphering of those memories. Learning which are yours and which are not."  
  
I nod and huddle into my blanket . . . dawn, however close, can take eons to actually occur. I've done this before, laid awake in the darkness of the early morning and waited what seemed eternity in only an hour. It will take longer still to get warm again. I want to tell him about my dream, but it might not even help anything. "Why is it so cold?"  
  
"Winter draws near." He rolls onto his back, the blanket falling away a little. I stare as he places his arms behind his head to cushion him. "And all the areas that were warm, like here, where rich with life stream. But you were there, you saw when it all collected around meteor, at Midgar. It hasn't yet made its cycle back to the rest of the world. It's colder now because of it."  
  
"Oh." He told me everything was important; pieces to the greater whole. "Vincent?"  
  
"Yes Cloud?"  
  
"I had a dream."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Zack loved Sephiroth too, but he said that I loved Him more. He worked hard so that I'd have chances to see Him, or listen to Him speak. He told me it hurt him to see me long for something so much. What do you think that means?"  
  
He grows very still and quiet, and somehow darker as if he retreated into shadow to contemplate this. His breath puffs before him in foggy gasps. "A number of things. If we know Zack cared for Sephiroth as well there is a greater possibility of those feelings being reciprocated back Zack and not you. But if Zack truly wanted you to be happy then he may have stilled his feelings for Sephiroth; given him up so that you could have him. Whether or not his undertakings were successful is still, as of yet, unknown." His glowing red eyes peer at me though the darkness. Reminds me of coals, embers, makes me feel warmer.  
  
I remember now how much I used to love the cold. No reason to love it now, no one to keep me warm. Only ice, all around me. And icy Vincent by my side. I shiver inadvertently and look up at the stars again; they have not changed.  
  
"Did they teach you about the constellations in training?" Vincent has turned his gaze away and now seeks out the coldly twinkling stars at the horizon.  
  
"It wasn't part of the core, but Sephiroth taught one of us, me or Zack."  
  
"Do you think that Zack would have told you of constellations while you were in captivity?"  
  
"Five years is a long time to talk."  
  
"Even so, would you really be able to know the constellations simply from being told about them?"  
  
"No . . . but you pointed the stars out for me. Either way it doesn't matter, if Sephiroth had told Zack about stars it was probably as a way to map out the country. It doesn't mean anything, how I know about stars."  
  
He sighs and I watch as his breath disappears into the air. "Perhaps you are right."  
  
I bite my lip and then remember not to. "Do you have an idea? As to who it was?"  
  
He shrugs. "There are things, things that don't add up. Upon recalling your story from the incident at Nibelheim, for example."  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"You asked him about his parents. Surely you would have already known had you two been involved."  
  
I stare at the ground. "Zack may have asked that question . . . or even one of the others. I remember Zack telling me once, that the ShinRa raised Him. I dunno, maybe I didn't believe Zack, maybe I did ask that. But then, you do have a point."  
  
He shakes his head slowly. "I hadn't thought that you might not have been the one to voice that question." He pauses and I see his hand move to rest pensively beneath his chin. He pulls the blanket tight around his once exposed shoulders. "Did Sephiroth know that Hojo was his . . . was his father?"  
  
"I don't think so. You remember what Hojo said at Midgar, just before we killed him. Moreover, Sephiroth spoke of him in a very aloof tone, not of hatred or regret. I don't think He knew."  
  
Vincent has different levels of contemplation. When I speak to him, he is always decisive and calculating. Now looks fearfully speculative. "I see."  
  
Again not the time to bring up the entire issue of fatherhood. "What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"Oh it is only that your conversation outside the gates of Nibelheim would make more sense if no one knew about Hojo. You may have known about his upbringing but never questioned his origin . . . understand?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess." He does have a point. I do not think anyone ever asked Him if He knew who His parents were. The name Jenova was unfamiliar and strange to me when I heard it at Nibelheim; it seemed so even to Sephiroth as the word tripped from His lips. "I remember some of the stories about what Hojo did to Him, and of course I was so shocked that I completely forgot to ask about His parents."  
  
"Nothing really seems to be helping then."  
  
"Maybe it's for the better," I say quietly. Regardless of the outcome of all this, I will not be happy. Either I have killed my friend, my lover, my brother . . . or I have never even tasted what it was like to have such a thing at all. I frown into the dirt and focus only on the sounds of the water rushing past us in tiny, frozen waves. I wiggle my numb toes and wince at the sensation.  
  
"Maybe . . ." He echoes exact tone and pitch. I glance back at him. He too stares forlornly out into the water.  
  
"I once asked Sephiroth what He would do if I became a monster, and He told me he'd become a monster catcher and capture me so He could keep me all to Himself."  
  
He turns those mournful red eyes toward mine and my gaze locks with his. I fight back tears of grief. "You're not a monster Cloud, far from it."  
  
"But I am . . . I am a monster."  
  
"Why would you think that?" He shakes his head and his mournful eyes twinkle beneath cold-starlight.  
  
"Because . . . of you."  
  
He freezes and his eyes go blank.  
  
"I hate to see you so sad, Vincent. You have been mourning and grieving for how long now? Twenty-six years? I am a monster . . . because I want to console you, reach out to you and hold you, keep you close and warm."  
  
His mouth drops a little and he falters . . . looks away back into the water. No puff of air, he is holding his breath. "I can't replace him, Cloud. I wont even try because I know that I can't, just as you cannot replace Lucrecia."  
  
I bow my head. I have to shut up, goddammit, just shut the fuck up before I /ruin/ this. He doesn't /want/ me, and /I/ don't want /him/! "I don't want you to replace Him. I just don't want you to be so sad." Shut UP!  
  
Our gazes lock again and there is tension, both wondering if the other will move. Move forward or away or reach out. No movement at all. We simply sit there, ice blue to fire-red. "I've made so many mistakes." I cannot hear him, the water and cold drowns out his words, and the foggy air obscures his lips. But I still know what he said.  
  
"So have I." I see my hand reach out to him. I am a /monster/! It's not right, never could be. Not when I was so in love with another, not when that other may have loved me too. I don't love Vincent and I never will. I know that I mean nothing to him when compared to Lucrecia, but still, he reaches out his hand and clasps mine. It should seem like nothing, an idle gesture of comfort or friendship. However, between the two of us, two bereaved and soul-dead men like us, it nearly breaks us. The warmth and the tension, almost painful. His fingers are cold and I wonder if mine seem warm to him. I need to pull away but I can't, my hand still outstretched and I see the pain in his eyes is the same as mine. I breath heavily and so does he, not at any sensation of touch, but the /betrayal/. Neither of us pulls away or edges forward, just sit there with our arms outstretched and fingers running gingerly across the knuckles, and palms of the other. I feel that if I pull away, I'll be lost forever, as if by gripping Vincent's shaking hand I will keep my feet on the ground and my mind in the present. It's not cold enough to freeze the tears flowing freely down my face like tiny rivers. Only tears though, no sobs, or frenzied breathing, just tears. My Sephiroth, I wish for a hell intense enough to punish me of my sins, grief alone will not suffice. Grief and betrayal . . . a worse hell than the one I have lived thus far, and I need a worse hell, need it like I need water. As I think this, I let my grip relax and Vincent's does as well. We do not move, I only let Vincent's thumb trace the plains of my palm, almost as if he can read my fortune. I hazard a glance into his eyes and his distress has softened to the dull knowing of pain that is only a reflection of what I feel. I memorize the calluses of Vincent's unfamiliar hands and I know the rough places and the soft places. I know the shape of his bones beneath his skin and I can feel where he has small scars and scratches. His nails are blunt and smooth. His fingers are long. Vincent knows my hands too, knows everything about them now, but still can't manage to rinse the death off.  
  
I don't know how long we are there, only that I pull away abruptly when the first tendrils of light creep across the land. A luminous glow spreads across my face, making me instantly warmer. Vincent pulls away too and I can tell we are both glad for the loss of the other. But it does feed the grief; force me to remember that I am nothing and that I deserve nothing. I don't deserve life or time or air or . . . an apology? Whispered so I barely hear it, perhaps am making it up entirely. I see the sun beyond Vincent's profile and his expression is blank, if not a little austere. "What did you say?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
I nearly laugh . . . we're both so fucked up. "You told me that I should never apologize, that I shouldn't feel compassion. Are you so different?"  
  
"Yes." A deep breath though his eyes remain focused on the river and he barely moves. "It was wrong of me, to take advantage of you when you were in such a poor mental state."  
  
"Take advantage of me?"  
  
"I . . . I should not have touched you, ever. You might not remember, but when you locked yourself in your room, I . . . it was not much of anything really; I only dried your tears or offered my shoulder so that you might steady yourself. But I shouldn't have when I knew that it might lead to . . . this." His gaze shifts slowly downward and I wonder what he thinks of when he sees the ground.  
  
"Not your fault, and you didn't take advantage of me. You were helping me, still are. You've never hurt me."  
  
"That does not mean that we can behave this way."  
  
My tongue is very poorly behaved today. "Sometimes we need to though, or we'll lose what small shreds of humanity we have. If we lose humanity then we lose memory and emotion. I know that such a fate would be too good for me, I don't want to forget, not ever, and I don't want to feel mitigated from my sins. I don't think you want that either."  
  
"No, I do not."  
  
He says nothing else and his expression is drawn again. The sun is surprisingly warmer than I would have thought. "Do you think our clothes are dry?"  
  
"No."  
  
Barely a whisper, yet no emotion at all. Sephiroth did that, I remember but I cannot tell Vincent. Sephiroth used to withdraw so far into himself that he scarcely seemed human. I remember now but . . . it couldn't have been me, I would /never/ have done something so brash, so impulsive.  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
Not ever.  
  
//"You still don't trust me do you. How long have I been working for you now? Two years? And you still can't stand it to have me look at you or touch you. Why is that Seph, am I really that awful." His eyes on me dead but threatening. "I'm not trying to be mean, I just wanna know why it is that whenever I touch you, you freeze and try to draw away. It's not as if I'm gonna hurt you, hell I don't think I even /could/ hurt you."  
  
His eyes now not focused on me and I watch as his chest rises a little and he takes a deep breath. "There are ways you can hurt me, Zack."  
  
"I don't want to. I want us to be friends." Hardening of expression, lips press tight together and eyes narrow slightly, still not focused.  
  
"Why?"  
  
" . . . Why? I dunno, why not? I want it and you seem like you need it."  
  
"I do not need anything." He tries to leave but I grab his arm and feel the muscles in his bicep flex and tense.  
  
"Seph, come on. Don't be so fucking stubborn." He tries to pull away again and my grip hardens.  
  
He relaxes very slightly. "And once you have me, what would you do. Keep me? Care for me, love me? I have heard it all before . . . all lies, Zack. And I am tired of taking that risk."  
  
I am shocked that he's opened up so much and I watch as he tenses again and his expression turns to stone. "I'm not lying to you Sephiroth. I . . . I love you" Nothing, blankness, darkness, shadows. He tries to pull away again with an almost imperceptible move. My movement is sudden and I am scarcely aware of what I am doing, let alone why. I push him to the wall and he is caught off guard. Then I kiss him, hard on the lips. He struggles weakly before becoming motionless, pressed to the wall. I tear my mouth from his, but do not let go. "Sorry."  
  
A long silence before his hands grip my forearms and for a moment, I feel as if perhaps he will kiss me. "It seems then, Zack, that your idea of love is severely distorted." He pushes me aside and walks quickly away. I do not follow.//  
  
  
  
"Cloud?"  
  
I shake my head, wondering what everything means.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
I glance over at Vincent, expecting to see the cold, dead quiet of him, but he is concerned. "Yeah, I'm okay."  
  
"Did you remember something?"  
  
"I'm tired of talking about it." The sun is visible now; I wish my clothes were dry so we could leave. "Is there any food?"  
  
"Yes, I'll prepare something for us."  
  
He remains silent as he rustles around in his saddlebag. I can only focus on breathing; it seems very difficult. There are too many emotions and revelations for me to cope with all at once. I am glad for the silence, and I am glad for my relative solitude. I don't think about the remembrance, I don't want to write it down or share it with anyone. I'm so horribly afraid of what it means. I'm afraid that Sephiroth didn't love Zack, I'm afraid that memory is simply the beginnings of a very twisted relationship that I wasn't a part of. I'm afraid . . . afraid of everything. 


	7. Seven

O_o Whoa, where have I been? In electronic hell of course!!! My computer blew up and my hard drive was destroyed. No floppy and no zip rive so everything I've ever written is gone forever, save for the things I've downloaded on ff.net (Hallelujah). So. for those of you who asked for the lemon about three months ago, I no longer have it. For those of you who have a copy of the lemon saved can you send it to me?? Please (I be at Hairyapechild@aol.com) Plus, the lemon in this chapter was deleted (I'm pissed, it was a goood lemon) so I wont be e-mailing the lemon from this chapter to anyone until I get the old lemon. This is because I'm not sure which little juicy phrases I had in which lemon and I don't want to end up writing the same thing twice. Sorry I've been gone; to make it up to everyone I will be taking requests for new stories, lemons, or random events in this story. Thanks everyone and I love ya! And now, our feature presentation.  
  
  
  
I wipe the sweat sloppily from my brow and try to slow my breathing. My mind and body are ablaze with the heat of the memory (A/N: the memory being the lemon which you all must wait for). Gods, I really think it was me that time . . . Zack would never have been so passive or so afraid, even if he loved Sephiroth too. It really might have been me. Sweat beads on my upper lip and I huddle in my blanket a little closer. The sun is up and I feel warmer, almost fevered. I feel sated after eating the food Vincent made. It was a pauper's meal, bread and water, but it was good bread and I was hungry. Vincent let the sun wash over him for a few moments as it ascended. He lay with his arms outstretched a little and most of his upper body exposed. It surprised me. He reminded me of Chaos at that moment, just because he seemed so vulnerable. I don't know why I think Chaos is helpless. I've seen him shred monsters in half and lick the viscera from his jaws. Maybe it's because I know Vincent is struggling for control.  
  
"Cloud? Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
". . .You sure?"  
  
"Let's see if our clothes are dry." I get up hastily, my blanket flung loosely about my shoulders, more because it's still cold than because I am ashamed of my nakedness. I am surprised that my skin aches and I realize that I've burned. Strange that the dead dryness of the desert spared my pale complexion, and it was here in the cold that I was burned. Still, I feel that I would rather have fire on me than ice. I approach the banks of the river timorously, almost afraid that my clothes are still sopping wet and icy. Only now am I able to see how faded my clothes are. I can scarcely fathom all that they've been through. Nibelheim, Midgar, Sephiroth, Meteor, Aeris. Everything. Vincent's clothes are not the bloody scarlet that so frightened me when I first met him. Still a deep red, only now more familiar and more beaten by the sun. I stretch my fingers out and feel the fabric of my shirt. Bone dry, I guess it doesn't take my clothes too long to dry because the fabric is so threadbare. Vincent's clothes are thicker but I do not see if they are dry, somehow it seems too personal. "They're dry. We can probably head out now." I have to yell and it makes me nervous. I wonder if Sephiroth felt nervous or strange whenever He had to call out.   
  
I turn and watch Vincent rise slowly to his feet. His skin is seared too, I wonder if he notices. He does, and winces as he stands and turns to try to see how burned the skin on his back is. Vincent would look nice with a tan. Not so paltry or flaccid. He might even look healthy. I wonder if I look a little better, like I've been well fed and well-rested, and not so hopeless. I fold my blanket messily and toss it aside. I turn to see where my chocobo has wandered off to and see her grazing a short distance away. I slide on my boxers; they are worn to the point of translucency. I pull on my pants and shirt. I contemplate leaving my belt behind, but realize that it really isn't mine, so I grab it and buckle it at the waist. I hear Vincent dressing behind me, he sounds hurried. I clasp my Escort Guard around my wrists and put my shoulder armor in place. While it once seemed strange to take my armor off, it now feels weird to have it back, almost as if it grew heavier over the night. Vincent buckles and fastens his clothes into place before gathering up his blankets and turning to go reorganize his saddlebag. I'm grateful we still have a bottle of Cognac, though I wonder why he didn't buy more. Sephiroth used to drink a lot. If He didn't drink, He would never be able to sleep. I remember He would toss and turn and keep /me/ awake until I finally thrust a bottle of scotch at Him and let Him drink. He said if He could take a bullet in the ass, recover from a potentially fatal Yellow Fever, and still be strong enough to lead an assault on the forces of Wutai, then a little alcohol wouldn't hurt him. I guess He was right. It took Jenova to finally destroy Him. Tears raze my face in burning trails. I close my eyes and feel heat. Maybe I do have a fever. Maybe it's just the sunburn. Poor Sephiroth. I wonder if I was any help to Him, if I made it easier for Him to sleep or to cope with the every-day shit of Shin-Ra military life.   
  
I throw the blanket over my bird and it warks disapprovingly. I've been neglecting the damned bird. I haven't brushed her in ages, and the feathers that lay beneath the saddle are twisted and matted. Its skin is red and irritated. "Sorry." I pet her neck and she seems momentarily pacified. I haven't really been feeding them well either. I should have had Vincent get some greens at Corel. I jump into the saddle. Riding no longer seems unfamiliar, it's actually relaxing now that I've gotten used to the jostling and the soreness. Vincent sidles his bird up beside me. He took one of the blacks; everyone seemed to agree that it suited him and no one objected. I have the only gold. I raced her for a while, and brushed her and pampered her for a long time. I've scarcely acknowledged her after the battle. He set off at a moderate pace. My mind wanders back to my memory. Me and Sephiroth, for a few sweet moments we were together. I close my eyes and remember his cheek pressed to mine and his hands on my sides. I smile, and realize Vincent is staring at me. We haven't gone far but I reign in my bird and dismount quickly. He follows without question and without hesitation. The birds look confused. I walk slowly to a nearby tree and sit beneath its shade. Don't want to be burned any more. Vincent seems to simply glide to my side. I feel giddy, almost happy knowing that for once it was /me/. But I just want to be sure. "I think that Sephiroth and I . . . I think he actually /wanted/ me for once."  
  
"You think this was you?"  
  
"Yeah. See, Zack wouldn't have been so afraid or so shy or so . . . pliant."  
  
Vincent shakes his with a small smile.  
  
"And, He was kind to me. He . . . did things for me that he didn't do for most other people. And. . . he said something strange." I fall into a thoughtful silence without really realizing it.  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, He said . . . thank you, for showing Him what it was like to be . . . me. What do you think it means?"  
  
"It could mean many things. Where and when did this happen?"  
  
"In a bed-room, at night." Vincent's face remains stony. I guess I'm not funny. "I don't know. I remember there were stairs."  
  
"Were there stairs on the way to his quarters?"  
  
I close my eyes and try to imagine Sephiroth's office and the rest of his rooms. All very clean, very impersonal. No pictures, no paintings or art. There were books, all organized perfectly and devoid of dust. No stairs though.   
  
"No, no stairs. I think we were on a mission."  
  
"Nibelheim?"  
  
" . . . Could have been. There are stairs in nearly every inn on the planet though. It could have been any mission or any where at all."  
  
"I see." He falls silent and his eyes blaze and flicker with silent contemplation. "If this was at Nibelheim, he may have already known that he was not completely human. He might have said what he did because you showed him emotion. This seems far-fetched, but he did have certain . . . abilities, powers that put him beyond most mortal men. Perhaps he could read your thoughts."  
  
"Yeah . . . that makes sense."  
  
He stares at me and his eyes are as intense as hell-fire. "You seem almost euphoric."  
  
I grin. I am. "He was with me, it may have only been that once, it may have been the first of many. But He was with me."  
  
He turns his head towards the chocobos and his eyes glitter with unspoken melancholy.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
He sighs, but does not turn to face me when he speaks. "I don't mean to destroy your high spirits, but we still know nothing of your relationship with him. We don't know if he was really in love with you."   
  
My grin fades and I turn my eyes toward the ground. He's right. Even still, that /had/ to have been me. I lock the memory deep into the recesses of my mind and embrace the bittersweet feeling of it. He loved me, maybe only for a few minutes but He loved me. I could feel it. "I guess we should go."  
  
"Sorry. I should not have said anything."  
  
"It's okay. Let's just try to get to Frog Forest by today." I whistle once and my bird trots toward me, seemingly eager to be off again. I'd think they would want to rest, but apparently not. We start again, this time a little faster. I can see the mountain looming in the distance now. I remember wondering about it before we ever went there. I thought maybe some ancient tribe of the Gi or some Nanakis all ran around on top of that mountain. I realize belatedly that I fucking /hate/ the frog forest. It's a pain in the ass. I guess it will be good for me to somewhere mentally and physically aggravating. I sigh and wish only to be back in my cave, alone and miserable.  
  
***  
  
  
  
//"Doin' good cloud. You'll be in SOLDIER before you can say Sexy Sephy."  
  
I execute a special move that Zack learned from the Lieutenant General at the time, this is my third month taking Kung Fu lessons from Zack and I'm starting to get pretty good. "You really think so?"  
  
"Hell yes. Now, lets try again and Ill show you something really cool."  
  
I begin a complicated series of kicks and punches.   
  
"What's the SOLDIER motto, cadet?"  
  
"What doesn't kill you makes you strong enough to kill something else."  
  
"Correct. What is the most prestigious platoon in 1st Class?"  
  
"Dragon Squadron."  
  
"Yup. Who commands Dragon Squadron?"  
  
"Sexy Sephy." Now I'm supposed to do this throw. I manage it. I grab Zack by the upper arm, wedge myself beneath his torso, and use the momentum to send him down to the mat. He lets me do it.   
  
"Good job. Now there's a devastating counter to that. Unblockable too. The General himself taught me this one. Do it one more time and Ill show you how it works. Go slow though so you can see what's going on."  
  
I grab Zack by the arm and as I do, Zack pivots sideways so he is standing beside me. He moves extremely fast and even tough I know he would never hurt me, my instincts tell me to move and move quickly. I try retreating to the left and my face is met with Zack's impending elbow.   
  
"Oh fuck, Cloud! You weren't supposed to move."   
  
I drop to the mat and try to wipe the blood streaming from my nose. I groan.  
  
"I'm sorry, Cloud. Here let me help you." He gently places his hands on the back of my neck and lifts my head. "Ow. I thought you said go slow."  
  
"Sorry, babe. I thought I was."  
  
He calls me babe sometimes, and I don't think he does it on purpose. I don't mind anymore. I don't think he'd ever do anything to me.  
  
"Can you sit up?"  
  
I sit up and my head is swimming. I don't feel too bad though. Zack's hands slide from the back of my neck down my back. He rubs his fingers in circular motions and speaks softly to me. I open my eyes and his face is near mine. His eyes are wide, candid, and beautiful. I always thought he had beautiful eyes, even when I was ashamed of such thoughts. They are a yellow-hazel rimmed with blue. I stare at his eyes, more so to watch the colors swirl than to make eye contact. He bows his head and I see the red- searing of a blush spread across his cheeks. "How come you look at me like that sometimes?"  
  
"You have pretty eyes Zack. Didn't you know?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess." His hands move back up to my neck and this time it is more of a caress. I feel like I should be tense or nervous, but I'm not. "You have pretty eyes too, Cloud." He brings his head back up and looks into my eyes. I half expect him to kiss me and I wonder what I would do. He's never done anything like this before, yet, it is not entirely unfamiliar. Almost as if I had dreams about this that I could never remember. He moves his face closer very slowly, watching me with anxious eyes, making sure I'm not too scared. I don't flinch or pull away. His lips press gently to my cheek and it is a nice feeling. Not wrong or evil, only comforting and warm. He presses his cheek to mine, avoiding the blood that's caked around my nose. He pulls me closer so slowly that I don't even realize he's doing it. I find myself seated in his lap and only then do I grow uneasy.  
  
"Z-Zack. What are you doing?"  
  
"Nothing, baby." He lets go of me and I move away. "Sorry." He looks sad.  
  
"Zack, I don't understand."  
  
He gets up and moves away without a word.  
  
"Zack!"  
  
He stops and his shoulders are tense and the muscles in his arms flex with some hidden rage. He rounds on me and now his eyes are all golden-anger and resentment. "Why is it that you can love Sephiroth but not me? Are we that different? Do you think if Sephiroth did that to you, you would tense up and resist? I just . . ." His voice grows soft and he closes his burning eyes. "I just want to know why you are still afraid of me."  
  
I remain silent, trying to be adult and reasonable. I realize he's right, that I can't be afraid of other men if I ever want to be with Sephiroth. "I didn't know that you wanted me."  
  
"I do. But Cloud I want /all/ of you. I'd never take advantage of you or hurt you. You know that, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah." I crack a smile.   
  
He smiles back. His grin is lunatic-luminescent. "So you wanna grab something to eat?"  
  
"You mean like a date?"  
  
He laughs. "Yeah, like a date."//  
  
"Better make sure nothing's loose on your bird. The paths are treacherous up ahead."  
  
I nod, still thinking of Zack and wondering why I didn't let myself enjoy what he was offered me. I absently repack all of my things. The booze, the twine, the stupid ass journal and pen. I resituate the saddle on my bird and pet her on the neck while I wait for Vincent to organize all his shit. I wonder if obsessive organization skills were a pre-requisite for being a Turk. Then again, Reno didn't seem too big on tidiness. Oh well.  
  
"What's on your mind?"  
  
"Zack . . . and Reno."  
  
He stands up and looks me squarely in the face. "Zack dated Reno?"  
  
I laugh. "No no. I was just thinking of Zack and missing him. Then I started wondering if all Turks had to be organized. Reno seemed sloppy."  
  
"Yes, he did. What did you remember about Zack?"  
  
"Not much. Just the first time he kissed me."  
  
Vincent's eyes seem to smile.   
  
"Zack seemed angry that I could love Sephiroth but not him. Maybe . . ." I don't want to finish talking. It seems stupid.  
  
"Maybe Zack loved you more than he loved Sephiroth."   
  
I turn to stare at Vincent who is trying to unsmash a loaf of bread. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Maybe . . . he was helping me so that . . . no, it's stupid."  
  
"So that he could spend time with you." Vincent finishes packing and turns to stare at me.   
  
"He had an army of people to choose from. I don't think he would have lusted so heavily after me." I hop back onto my bird and start moving. The paths are treacherous; I go slowly.  
  
"I believe it is a distinct possibility."   
  
"But, all those memories. I was /so/ in love with Him."  
  
Vincent doesn't say anything. He is thinking though. I can tell. He follows me and walks just behind me, letting me lead us to where I might finally make a home. I haven't had a home since I left Nibelheim, not a real one. Maybe I can finally be somewhere I can call my own, where I don't have to worry about anything but myself. Just like Vincent says.   
  
The trip is uneventful and bumpy as hell. It is past midnight before we finally reach the entrance of the forest.  
  
"Rest now, Cloud. Ill keep watch." Holy only got rid of Mako monsters. The creatures in the frog forest are natural and still deadly as any perverted contortion of evolution. Vincent sits at my feet when I lie down, his gun resting over his shoulder. I try to turn so I'm not sleeping on my sunburn and only manage to wedge myself in an uncomfortable position. I still find sleep though. The heat of the sun can make almost anyone sleep. And I dream.  
  
  
  
//Zack is watching me. I smile at him and he smiles back. His eyes look hungry and I blush. It was too hot in the dorms, especially when you sleep two to a bed. So we went swimming in the pool, even though it was past curfew. Zack threw me in did a few cannon balls then claimed it would take three plus hours for his hair to dry so he'd better start now. I continued to swim for a little while longer, all the time acutely aware to Zack's penetrating gaze. His eyes glow like a cat's eyes. Zack took me back to his rooms after we finished eating that one day about a week ago. He kissed me, held me, and petted me, nothing else though. I was nervous, but now . . . now I'm starting to wonder what it would be like to have him inside me. I know that he wants me too. He even told me so but said that we'd wait until I was ready. Zack is beautiful; I can acknowledge that now. He has a beautiful body with toffee skin. He tastes sweet and kisses sweet too. Maybe . . . maybe I am ready. I do want him. Who cares if it's not right? Everyone else does it.   
  
"Hey gorgeous," he says to me as I wipe my hair off with a towel.   
  
"Hey."  
  
He doesn't say anything else, just watches me.  
  
"Let's go to bed now."  
  
"Okay." He stands and saunters of towards the dorms.   
  
I walk behind him and I want to reach an arm around him to grab his hip but I hesitate too long and he starts talking.  
  
"Did you have fun?"  
  
"Yeah." I can't quite figure out how to tell him I want him. "Does it hurt?"  
  
He looks at me with concern-filled eyes. "Does what hurt?"  
  
I shrug and try to sound nonchalant. "Sex."  
  
He stops walking and nearly tumbles to the ground. "Uhhhh . . . o-only at first."  
  
"Okay, doesn't sound too bad. Just tell me what to do and Ill do it."  
  
"Cloud, you don't have to."  
  
"I want to."  
  
He starts walking again. "Okay." His voice is a hoarse whisper. He stops again, grabs me by the waist, and kisses me hard on the lips. He lifts me entirely off the ground, my feet dangle, and he squeezes me. He laughs as he puts me back down on the ground. Quite suddenly, he yanks on my swimming trunks and takes off running. I stand there dripping naked with my shorts around my ankles and watch his retreating form. I'm glad I met Zack.//  
  
  
  
A/N: Do we want two lemons for this chapter??? I could make it happen. Please review and I hope someone can send me a copy of the chapt. 3 lemon soon so that way I can get out this chapters lemon. Sorry if I keep switching the gender of Cloud's chocobo, sorry I haven't named it either but when I played, I named the golden chocobo  
  
Crappo and I didn't think it was appropriate for the story.   
  
  
  
[pic] 


	8. Fake Chapter part II

I have updated chapter 7, but I just thought that it would look better if I pretended I had a chapter 8 up as well..heeeheee 


	9. Eight

//There is something so intensely wrong about the way he is spinning. I tried to place it for a long time, but now I realize that the slow rotating of his body is just like that of a hanged man. He never turns completely around; some equatorial glitch in gravitation sends him back the other way before he can spin completely around. I can never really see his face. Just a bare glimpse of his profile, and there is blood leaking from his lips. Some combination of morbid curiosity and complete horror glue my eyes to him as he swirls endlessly in that tank of toxic green. He has been unconscious for too long, and if I had the presence of mind, I would be afraid. The idea of death eludes me even now, when it seems the closest. When I might die or when Zack might die. I suppose it would make little difference. If I died, there would still be the swirling green behind and before my eyes. There would still be the Mako burn on my flesh. And if Zack died, then I'm sure it wouldn't take me long to follow. Always . . . I always will follow him, always do what he does. And maybe if the promised land does exist, then maybe when we die, it will be better than here. Better than watching Hojo watch us with no emotion in his gaze. Better than getting no response from the cries of agony. Better than the pain.  
  
My world is timeless. Perhaps winter and summer blink the world alive. Outside. Maybe I'm an old man now. I have enough stories to be one of those fireside grandfather's whose wrinkled, trembling hands illustrate eons of life. Of wisdom. I want to be wise. I want to shout my stories to the stars and send them swirling through the fires. About that vain little girl and the way the mountain swallowed her. And her father who hit me. I would weave my tales of amber lights and sleepless nights watching the wax of candles drip to the floor. I used to let wax drip on my skin, to feel the burn, to feel connected and alive, to see how it looked like my skin was diseased when there were lots of tiny drops of wax. Like lepers or plague victims. Of pollen stained faces and imps that danced in the dew of the jungle. Of fire. Of the Angel of Death, whose beauty betrays Him. Of SOLDIER and missions and war; flying death and grass and blood. Spinning bodies, whirling poison. Green-fire reeling through my mind and jolting through my nerves, crushing my very bones to dust.  
  
One day they will build great stone monuments to my stories. I might even be hailed as a god. Just like . . . He was.//  
  
Gunpowder on my lips wakes me. For a moment I wonder if Vincent has kissed me, but I see him firing rounds above my head. Bullet shells fall around my face like rain, and the air is thick with smoke and the savor of Vincent's rifle. I sigh, it's not even light out yet. "Keep it down will, ya."  
  
Vincent glances at me with a peculiar glint in his eye. He fires one more shot. Lowers his gun and looks back up. I hear Hades' name on his lips, and wonder if the demon will still answer to him. None have answered to me. I close my eyes and drown out the sounds of battle, not caring what he is fighting or why. I struggle to remember where we are. It reminds me of Gongaga. Zack used to gibe himself about being from such a small, mundane town, but I know he loved it. He talked about it endlessly. About the weapons smith who would sit atop the furs of wild cats, the first man to let Zack hold a sword. About how before the reactor was built, the whole town was lit up at night with hundreds of tiny candles. About the wild tropical flowers that had so many colors and were so large, they could be worn as hats.  
  
"Damn birds," Vincent mutters and sits back down silently, eyeing me reproachfully.  
  
"I always thought those leaf things were more annoying, but if you wanna shoot birds, then at least wait till dawn. I'm still tired."  
  
"I apologize," he says softly and with some restraint.  
  
I rub the sleep from my eyes and massage my temples. Head always hurts. "I keep having . . . weird dreams. For a while they were coherent, like memories, but now its all fire, and dancing, and hedonism. It's confusing."  
  
He is silent for a long moment, and I feel as if I've been talking too much, that what I've shared with him is trivial and could never matter. Somehow I fear that Vincent will abandon me here, leaving me to face a fate much worse than death. I torture myself enough as it is . . . and though I deserve it, I cannot do it alone. I am beyond being broken, but solitude will surely shatter me. I speak my thoughts, even though they have nothing to do with anything. "Please . . . don't leave."  
  
He places the cold metal of his hand on my shoulder, the gesture more personal and loyal than if he had used his human hand. "I'll stay as long as I can."  
  
"W-what?" I had told him not to leave only because my mind had somehow wandered to that place where I might be left in solitude. I never really expected him to acknowledge my words . . . never thought he would really leave me here. My hand somehow wanders up to clutch his human one with a fervent desperation. "You /can't/ leave, I don't know what I might do if you leave me alone. Please, don't leave me. . ."  
  
"I'll stay as long as I can."  
  
Hot tears run down my cheeks. "Don't leave." For some reason, suicide is beyond me. Too good, or not good enough, or physically impossible. I couldn't do it, I know that if I tried I'd simply awake again and find my self in eternal misery. Eternally alone. No way to /ever/ get Him back. And I will not be abandoned again. My world tilts on some foreign axis and leaves me trembling and struggling for air, for coherency. "You'll leave me like Zack left me and like He left me. You /can't/. The world will end . . . the world will end. If you leave me here, /everything/ will die." He is speaking to me, trying to pacify me, make me stop sobbing. I don't understand the words, can't distinguish them from my own babbling. Something snaps beneath my grip. "/You'll/ die. The world . . . I wanna die. Just fucking kill me, /please/!"  
  
"It's okay Cloud, I'll stay here with you. Cloud please, stop it. I'm trying to help you. Cloud . . . you're /hurting/ me."  
  
I blink my tears away and see my own hand gripping Vincent's. Too hard, too strong. I let go quickly and have time to see the bloodless imprints that my fingers have made on his skin and the bruising of the veins. //"What would you do if I became a monster?"// I see Vincent withdraw just slightly and try to rub the feeling back into his arm. "I . . . sorry. Monster . . . I knew I would be a monster . . . No one can bring me back anymore . . . Only . . . Him." I pull my knees up to my chin and stare through the tear blur of my eyes, at the breaking dawn.  
  
"I want to bring you back Cloud." The words are so soft, I think for a moment it might have been the wind or some rustling of grass, but it's not. Vincent is staring at me with lamenting eyes and deep remorse; I swear I see a tear drip from those crimson depths. He moves swiftly and I do not have time to track his movements before I am in his arms. "I won't hurt you."  
  
My arms snake around Vincent's too-thin body against my will. He pulls me closer and rests his chin on my shoulder and the contact feels so alien and strange. But I can't pull myself from him. "You never should have helped me." He only pulls me closer and I might be delusional, and I might be insane, but the fabric on my shirt collar is wet with what can only be tears. "Why a-are you crying?" I feel him breathing beneath my arms, a struggled rise and fall of his chest, and I wonder how badly I hurt him. He does not respond for a long time, only steadies himself against me. Perhaps I am comforting him more than he is comforting me. I rub my fingers along his back and even through the layers of clothing, feel the vague ridges of his spine. "I'm so sorry, Vincent. I hurt you." I inadvertently pull him closer and squeeze my eyes shut at how weightless he is. Like a bird. He still doesn't speak, doesn't do anything. "Please!" Something snaps in my brain and there is a flash of the whitest light.  
  
//"What's it like?" I can't see his face through the blur, but I know he's smiling in that far-off way.  
  
"Transcendent."//  
  
I feel like I'm floating, like all the nerves in my body have detached and are reaching upwards in the heavens. Where all the angels are waiting for me.  
  
// " . . . real prick sometimes." He turns to glare at me and I know that it's none of my business but I don't understand why he needs to act this way.  
  
"I do what I have to . . . stay grounded."//  
  
The world is pulling at me and I feel Mako energy in my veins trying to get back to the source, to the core and it pulls me down too quick. And I'm falling.  
  
// "Tell me! Please, I wanna know . . ."  
  
". . . very secret. No one knows . . . so dark."//  
  
I see nothing feel nothing. Nothing. Maybe slight panic at the utter lack of sensation but the world holds nothing for me. No light or darkness, no state of being.  
  
" . . . cloud . . ."  
  
Maybe I'm dead. Maybe He's finally calling me home. And I embrace it. I want to go to Him. I want to be anywhere but here. I want to /feel/.  
  
" . . . Cloud . . ."  
  
This is His voice, sweet, brazen, soft. Tears creep from my eyes. Its been too long since I heard His voice, with His words. I see Him with His wings and arms outstretched, ready to hold me tight forever, so that I'm never ever left alone and so I /never/ have to hurt again.  
  
"Cloud . . ."  
  
I'm so sick of the pain and the waiting and the exhaustion. I'm tired of games. Of always guessing and never ever knowing. "Was it me Sephiroth? Was it me that you loved?"  
  
"Cloud! CLOUD! PLEASE!"  
  
And my angel evaporates from behind my field of vision and my eyes snap open and I see the lightening sky, my hands outstretched but looking mangled and twisted. I inhale sharply and the return of breath to my lungs sends sharp pains through every nerve in my body and I tremble at the feeling. The tears I wept for Sephiroth, for hearing Him and having Him want me, turn sour and cold on my cheeks. Some alien pathetic noise escapes my lips and I curl onto my side. And Vincent is here. Arms enfolding me like the wings of Chaos. And his eyes mourn with ages of grief, timeless woe. "What happened?"  
  
He holds me closer still and He is not so cold and unfamiliar as before. "It's okay. I think just a small fit of epilepsy. It will be fine, Cloud."  
  
I shed exhausted tears and cannot move away from Vincent's warmth. "Why do you have to abandon me?"  
  
He presses his forehead to mine in a gesture so unlike him it frightens me. I'm forced into his eyes and I see no hatred or betrayal, but why then? "I want to help you. There are certain items in Nibelheim that may help us. Hojo's journals never made sense to us before, but now that we know what happened, we may be able to put the pieces of these riddles together."  
  
"I don't wanna go to Nibelheim." I feel so frail in his arms. Maybe it is just the reserve, the care in which he touches me. So wrong. So horribly wrong.  
  
"I know, Cloud. That's why I brought you here. I'll stay with you here for a few days, but then I should go. I won't be gone long. I swear to you that I'll return." He is so close to me I can see the way the fabric covering his mouth shifts and moves as he breathes or speaks. It's stupid really, to always keep your mouth covered like that. I pull the fabric down and watch his lips appear.  
  
"There."  
  
He does not flinch, or even blink when I touch his lips. I want to see if they're cold like the rest of him, or if perhaps they aren't even real, just some image my mind conjured up. I pull my hands away and when I try to move away from him, I find myself somehow closer to him, nestled in the safety of his arms. In my minds eye I see Sephiroth, somewhere high among the clouds, staring down at me, then turning away with the muted resonant whisper of a thousand wings. I try to pull away. And I see Zack staring at me with raging eyes and wondering how it is that I cannot love him. And I still cannot pull away. Maybe it's because even Vincent has some of Jenova's magnetism, some of her pull. And I cannot wrench myself from his gravity for anything. So I sleep.  
//His eyes are eerily blank.  
  
"Why are you so adamant in knowing?" He turns towards the window and stares vacantly at the city lights outside. I wonder if He notices how beautiful it is. "To acquire knowledge is something that many people aspire for; a strong mind is covetous. I admire your quest for knowledge, Cloud, but did you ever consider that some things might be best left unlearned? Did it ever occur to you that no one knows of my origins for a reason?"  
  
His tone is even, no emotion, and it scathes me even more than if He were screaming at me or strangling me with fury. I sigh and drag my hands through my hair. "I . . . I only want to know if you want to tell me."  
  
He turns back to face me, some wry, not-quite bitter look in his eyes. "Frankly, I don't."  
  
"Damn it, Sephiroth. I /do/ want to know. It's driving me insane that I don't know! And . . . nothing, I don't care if you tell me the most horrible thing in the world. Nothing can change the way I feel about you. /Nothing/."  
  
He scoffs and walks toward me with horrible deliberation and just the slightest edge of danger. "And why is that? Because I'm beautiful? Because I can send you up the ranks?"  
  
"Oh quiet. You know that's not true." He catches my jaw between His gloved fingers and bends low to stare me in the eyes.  
  
"Then why?"  
  
I can never answer this question and I know it kills Him. He needs reassurance, just to make sure that I'm not using Him like everyone else does. I don't know why I love Him. I just do. "Cuz." His hand drops and He picks up His façade and turns away before I can even begin to gauge any sort of reaction. "Sephiroth, I'm not using you. I don't want anything from you except . . . you. Please, just /talk/ to me."  
  
"What have you heard so far." It is not a question, stated too blandly to really even be considered a statement. He stares listlessly at the snifter on the table, no doubt wishing His thoughts to be drenched in alcohol."  
  
"Is it true you grew up in the lab? Is it true Hojo raised you?"  
  
His eyes do not stray, no muscles in His body twitches with emotion or flinches at memory. "Yes."  
  
"Did . . . did he do experiments on you?" I abandon all caution, because He knows what I want to ask anyways. All I have to do is say it.  
  
The reply is softer this time and His eyes grow unfocused, distant. " . . . Yes."  
  
"Tell me what he did . . .please"  
  
He shakes His head and turns to go stand by the window again, peering out into the city like there's nothing wrong.  
  
"Please, Seph. I wanna talk to you." I know it's probably the wrong thing to do, but I move to stand behind Him and place my hands on His sides, still too afraid to embrace Him completely. "Tell me."  
  
He releases the air from His lungs in what might almost be a sigh. "Mostly Mako."  
  
"Did it hurt?"  
  
". . . Yes." Barely a whisper and I see His reflection in the glass, His eyes glow pale in His effort to withdraw, to disassociate Himself with His past. "Mako burns, Cloud. Cauterizes the mind and stings the senses. He . . ."  
  
"I won't ever judge you Sephiroth."  
  
"He did other things as well." His voice is observant yet achingly soft, with only the slightest emphasis on words. "He . . . wanted to see the science in me. Wanted to see how I could kill, how I could heal." I take the next step and slide my arms around His waist and lean my cheek against His shoulder. "It began simply. He would fracture my bones and compare the rates at which they healed if more Mako was added to my system."  
  
//I bite my lip to keep from screaming as my femur is snapped. I taste blood and scream anyways.//  
  
"Things escalated with his curiosity, his morbidity. Head wounds, flesh wounds, internal bleeding. All inflicted by him for the specific intent to see how I would conquer the pain and the damage. Physically, I became accustomed to pain. I knew nothing else. I was made to do mental exercises as well, not quite as painful, but some of the psychological studies were unpleasant. He made me kill people. ShinRa army recruits. He would always watch me do it, and he enjoyed to see them die. Enjoyed the fact that I didn't know any better." He bows his head, eyes more mournful than I have ever seen them. I wipe the tears from my eyes quickly and lead Him to the couch so we can sit down. So He can have His drink. He doesn't reach for it. He reaches for /me/. It is not a physical gesture but I feel His will pulling me towards Him. I crawl into His embrace and hold back the tears threatening to choke me. "I don't like killing people, Cloud."  
  
I slide my arms around His shoulders and kiss His face with vague abandon.  
  
"And the experiments always got worse. Hojo . . . is imaginative and devised many ways to . . ."  
  
" . . . torture you."  
  
He shuts His eyes. Does not concur with my assessment but makes no move to deny it. I notice with a good deal of sadness, that Sephiroth isn't as articulate as He might be. Pausing too long in the middle of phrases and fumbling with words. Even such trite trivial miscommunication errors signal distress in The General.  
  
"The worst one I remember. He . . . did an autopsy, I don't know why. On me. He cut me open and tore me apart. And every time I was rendered unconscious he would use electric shock to revive me. To make sure that I felt everything he was doing to me."  
  
// "Revive him. Let's see how long specimen C can handle it. Specimen Z did fairly well."//  
  
I was expecting the worst, but that. My mind refuses to even go there. "Oh, Seph. I'm so sorry. I won't hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."  
  
//"If you put your mind somewhere else, it wont hurt so much. Just think of someplace you want to be."//  
  
Neither of us speak for a long time. The silence swallows me and my movements are painfully loud. I try not to swallow or move. "You must hate him."  
  
I don't think he realizes I've spoken until a few seconds later. His eyes distant and glassy, he shakes his head very slowly. "No. I don't."  
  
"What?" My voice is too sharp, too abrasive for the silence of his quarters.  
  
His entreating aura disappears, and instead I feel as if He is pushing me away. "You couldn't understand. I know what sort of reputation Hojo has down in the ranks. Hojo is a man with no mercy and little remorse."  
  
"But! Who cares what his reputation is! What you told me just confirmed that everything people say about him is true! If anything, what they say is an understatement. Seph. What he did to you was awful. No one should have to live through that, not anyone."  
  
"So you think that if I hate, then perhaps that will make things better."  
  
I falter and He stands up, pours himself a drink and stares out at the city. "It won't fix anything, you're right. But, how could you possibly not hate him?"  
  
He shrugs indifferently. "How many people in this world do you hate." He swirls the amber liquid in his glass and frowns thoughtfully at it, but does not drink.  
  
"I . . . Sephiroth, you have to understand that no one has ever been so . . . deliberately cruel to me."  
  
"You are naïve Cloud."  
  
". . . Maybe so, but. If anyone did anything like that to me I would hate them."  
  
"I won't let anyone do anything like that to you."  
  
"Quit changing the subject Sephiroth! I feel like there's something you're keeping from me. I /know/ it. You're hesitating too much, and thinking too hard."  
  
He smiles vaguely at the outside. "How can you tell."  
  
Never a question. "Because, you're dodging me. And you're not drinking."  
  
He frowns, not at his liquor but at me. "Perhaps we've been spending too much time together, if you can read me that well."  
  
I cower inadvertently, knowing that if I push much harder he truly will cut himself off from me. Ignore me, pretend I'm not here. "Sorry, Seph. If you don't wanna talk about it's okay. I just wanna show you that I love you and that nothing can ever change that."  
  
He drinks. "Don't say such things if you are unsure of them."  
  
I bow my head and tears creep slowly down my cheeks. He's says thing like this all the time, that I don't love Him or wont love Him, or that I'll hurt Him. I watch as He stands unmoving by the window. And I turn to leave.//  
  
Strange how for some reason I thought He was gone. I wonder why, I don't really remember, some silly dream. I have such dreams sometimes, that I'm alone and that He's left me. But He's here with His arms around me. I pull Him closer, wonder where we are and why I can't remember. "Good morning," I mumble, and nuzzle into the warm hollow of His neck.  
  
". . . Cloud?"  
  
Something wrong, in His tone . . . and in His voice. I open my eyes and cry out, leap back. "Fuck!" In a rush, I remember. I knew it . . . I knew that one day I would forget, and one day I would . . . do something to Vincent. But I forget only for a few bittersweet moments; then I remember. Remembrance is not so painful as it should be, I feel like killing Him never left, even though for a few moments it did. It's like the pain never went away. I guess it didn't. "Sorry, Vincent. I . . . I guess I just thought you were . . . Him." He looks rattled, in his own unshakable way, and sits up a little shaky to stare at the light filtering through the leaves above us. "I'm sorry," I say and sound for some reason desperate.  
  
He closes His eyes tight and buries his head in his arms. "My fault Cloud. Entirely my fault."  
  
He sounds so mournful. For a brief moment I wonder what I've done to him, how helping me may have simply begun to fray his own mind as well. "I . . . Vincent, I don't understand."  
  
He shakes his head and situates his cloak and covers his face; he had looked so vulnerable when it was exposed. He stands and hoists his gun over his shoulder, eyes searching the forest around us. Seeing things only trained eyes can see.  
  
"Vincent . . . you said you'd be open with me. You know I don't like secrets, they kill people."  
  
He bows his head and his hands drop gracefully to his sides. "It is my fault Cloud. You thought I was Sephiroth, because of the ways I was . . . touching you, holding you. I shouldn't take advantage of you like that. It will only destroy your psyche further." I ignore his comment about my destroyed psyche, somehow hurt and offended even though I know it's true. "You . . . but you . . . you don't think of me as Lu . . . you . . . do you . . ."  
  
He turns and his ember eyes are both mournful and angry. "Yes Cloud. I want to hold you, and touch you. Is that what you wanted to ask?"  
  
I bow my head and cannot hold back the tears. I do not question him further, afraid of what he's thinking or what I might be thinking and what he'll say and what I'll do if he says what I think he might if I continue to talk to him. But maybe . . . I should just ask him. Why he's helping me when no one else would or could. Why he continues to stay with me even though we both know it's hopeless. Why I can make him cry when no one else can. Maybe I should just ask him why . . . and if. By the time I look up, he is far away, searching for something to kill. It does not occur to me to assist him.  
  
I sit in the grass and watch bugs hop by and resent the sun, as I knew I would. I try to scramble in the darkest shade of the tree I am under, needing to be out of the sun, not just because its hurts my skin, but because I hate it and even if I didn't, I wouldn't deserve it. I wish I could transform, like Vincent can. That in the day I might be a pale, fragile creature that cowers in the sun, and at night the moon makes me mad and I change into some horrible winged creature, who feels only pain and fear. Or maybe . . . would it be more tragic if I were to be beautiful? Some silver moon-sheathed angel that weeps at night for the loss of all beauty. I could be an imperfect copy of my Angel, just as Hojo wanted me to be. I frown when I realize his genius and wonder how something so evil, someone that I hated so much could create something so perfect, someone that I loved. Sephiroth's beauty was no fluke and no flaw. I see much of the same in Vincent, the eyes, the high cheekbones, the full, austere lips. And the ghost of Lucrecia, even the pale half glow of her specter, was beautiful. But the physical prowess and mental strength were Hojo. The flawless, sculpted body created through Hojo's training. The hidden, gentle disposition, also because of Hojo and his calculated cruelty. How is it that Hojo produced something so flawless? But then . . . I suppose even He wasn't perfect. My mind stings at the acknowledgement. The one constant in my life, the one thing I could count on, was His perfection; having that anchor pulled from me may have been what destroyed me. But I like the tragic ones. I like the broken and bleeding type. I enjoy the drama and the unfolding of secrets. I think maybe a lot of people do. They want the ones who have been abused and hurt. I recall some horrible lessons in school about literary characters and their tragic flaws. What was Sephiroth's? It may have been simple ignorance, the knowledge of what He was may have been the undoing of His sanity. But . . . it seems so strange to me, that Sephiroth, so steadfast, powerful, and obstinate, would let Jenova destroy Him. It didn't seem like He would really care that much . . . then what was it, that made Him . . . what made Him become what he became?  
  
Vincent sits down at my side, disturbing my thoughts.  
  
"I've only just thought of something that might help." His eyes are unfocused and the barest sheen of perspiration shines from what little of his skin I see. I somehow doubt that it is because of physical activity; the workings in his mind have excited him. He is low on ammunition, and I wonder how long he's been trying to purge the forest . . . so that I might be safe.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You told me that you didn't want to kill Sephiroth, that you were having second thoughts."  
  
I pause. " . . . Yeah."  
  
"You told me this after you made your recovery in Mideel."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Tifa . . . spoke to me a little of what happened." He pauses, probably wondering if I am betrayed or angry. It is too far in the past for me to care. "You were able to recover your own mind, your own feelings and aspirations at Mideel."  
  
"Yes . . ."  
  
"Tell me, did you truly want to kill Sephiroth before all that happened? Did you really believe that he was an evil person?"  
  
I close my eyes, and think back to those strange, vague days when my thoughts were not my own. I remember so little, even though it was not long ago. "I . . . I'm . . . don't know. Can't remember."  
  
I open my eyes and see him nod slowly. "Tell me then, would /you/ ever even consider killing him?"  
  
" . . . No, never. Not ever would I . . . I . . . how could I . . . how /did/ I?"  
  
He places his clawed hand on my shoulder, and I inhale slowly to calm myself. It's over, and I can't change it.  
  
"Something in you made you want to kill Sephiroth. Something in /Zack/. His thoughts were yours, his memories were yours, and Zack must have hated or distrusted Sephiroth to the point that he wanted him dead."  
  
I blink slowly, somehow hurt that there is truth there. /I/ would sooner sacrifice the world to Him than kill Him, see His blood on my sword. But, if I didn't remember and Zack's intentions were the only things driving me, then . . . maybe Zack did hate Him. My eyes burn and I bow my head. Zack was Sephiroth's friend at some point, perhaps they were more. But something made Zack . . .  
  
Vincent's eyes are sardonic and I know he derives some morbid satisfaction from solving a part of this. "Do you think Sephiroth would have loved something that hated Him so fiercely?"  
  
I shake my head not to answer Vincent's question, but to deny Zack's hatred. " . . . Zack wasn't one to hate. He was very kind . . ." A memory that I've had for some time, one that I know to be true, surfaces from the chaos of my mind.  
  
//I am frightened, I know something is terribly wrong. Some twisted energy crackles through the air, and I feel as if I'm lost in some vortex. The reactor surges with this alien feeling and /terrible/ atmosphere. I am so very very frightened. My knees shake and my hands can barely grip my sword. I don't know what exactly is wrong, but I feel it, something there. When I see Zack, it doesn't register. My mind is too shot to be surprised by the blood pouring from his body and the twisted angle of his limbs and spine. He is alive . . . barely conscious but he is breathing and alive . . . and /seething/.  
  
"Cloud . . . kill Sephiroth."  
  
I choke back the vomit rising in my throat and swallow heavily. He is not trying to be merciful, he does not want this because he feels it is the best course of action. He is /angry/. I see the lush velvet depths of his eyes contract and dilate with rage, deception. His movements suggest that he is nowhere near coherency, hands twitching and body convulsing, but his eyes are so deadly sure and serious, that my grip tightens around his sword . . . and I ascend.//  
  
"He wanted you to kill Sephiroth in the reactor. The memories you've been describing to me, in which both of you are so completely dependent and in love with each other. If Zack loved Sephiroth the way you did, there is no way he could have hated him, inconceivable he'd wish him dead."  
  
Like all those years ago, I feel my stomach turn and bile rise to my throat. I shake my head, try to deny it. Logic . . . common sense, things that evaded me even when I was myself. So now more than ever, I have trouble finding reason to prove Vincent wrong, to show that Zack didn't hate him; that Sephiroth was not betrayed by the one person He trusted. Something in the back of my mind screams at me . . . something I know to be true. "But . . . no, he wouldn't. Couldn't. In, back, in . . . the lab, when we were trapped. Zack spoke of Sephiroth, that's how I got these memories. They're nice memories, he wouldn't . . .Zack wouldn't say nice things about someone he wanted to kill." I do not see anything around me, my mind has plunged far back, desperately clutching at the tattered visages of my memories.  
  
"Cloud." I look up at him and my mind feels sick, toxic. 'You know as well as I do that not all of the memories you have are positive. And besides, did it ever occur to that Zack may have only shared some of his memories for your benefit? That he wanted your mind not on your present, but somewhere he knew that you would want to be."  
  
I cover my mouth to try and quell my nausea, my eyes close and tears slide silently down my face. That sounds like Zack, he would have told me things I wanted to hear. He would have spoken only things that would make me happy. But . . . I refuse to believe that Zack, who was always kind, and always forgiving, would wish Sephiroth dead. "No . . . even if they weren't lovers, and just acquaintances or friends, Zack wasn't like that. He wouldn't have been so vindictive."  
  
"Then where did you get those feelings? That desire to kill?"  
  
"I don't know dammit! I was confused and frustrated! I /won't/ believe it."  
  
Vincent's eyes grow bright with concern and he reaches an entreating palm out to silence me, to make me settle down.  
  
I do relax, afraid that if I don't I might lose it again . . . and that would hurt Vincent. My lips twitch in what would almost be a sardonic smile when I realize that I'm more concerned with him than I am for myself. "So . . . you think it was me."  
  
He sighs. "It appears to me . . . that Zack did not love Sephiroth with as much passion as you have described to me in your memories. So if those memories were not his . . ."  
  
He doesn't need to finish. I think about slitting my wrists but my sword is strapped to my chocobo who is grazing nearby. It was . . . me? How did I do it . . . how could I betray him so much, and I didn't do it just once. I am beyond tears, I just want to die. I want my mind to shut down forever.  
  
"Cloud, we do not know for certain. There . . . still might be other evidence to suggest an alternate solution. My assumptions have been based only on what you have divulged so far. There are still many missing pieces. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. Try to think, I'm sure you'll come up with something that may counteract my ideas."  
  
"I was just now thinking of when . . . or no, it must have been when I was sleeping. I remember when Sephiroth first told me about how Hojo experimented on Him. There was something . . . I was upset with Him, because . . . He didn't hate Hojo. . ."  
  
// "He was never unkind to me. At least when he wasn't distracted by his professional career. Even then he didn't do those things to be unkind to me. He made me feel wanted and like perhaps I was worth more than everyone else. The other lab assistants weren't to touch me. They weren't to feed me or speak to me. Hojo did those things for them. He gave me books to read, and let me play in the lab if he was working. He knew I was intrigued by the sciences and allowed me to infuse my mind with knowledge. And though he did hit me often, and was frequently abusive verbally . . . He loved me. He would pet me, and call me pretty, and tell me how much better I was than anyone else was. And though I am loathe to admit it now, I needed to hear those things, much more then than I do now. I wanted to be better, needed to feel accepted. Hojo provided me with that. He was my mentor and in my youth taught me more about the algebraics of the world than most will ever learn throughout the entirety of their lives. It may be true that in the regard of devising theorems and experiments Hojo was weak. He merely borrowed what he could from professor Gast, but that is not to say that he is without a certain genius. I am indebted to him. He saw something in me that no one else would. And I do believe that he loved me at one point, though he never said so. I do not deny that I have been through hell more times than I can count. Not a single one of my bones has gone unbroken, and not a centimeter of my body was left unbruised. It made me stronger, and for that I cannot hate Him . . ."//  
  
"He didn't hate Hojo . . . and if Sephiroth didn't hate Hojo, then there's no way he could have hated Zack."  
  
Vincent frowns and looks thoughtful. "He didn't?"  
  
The question is soft and spoken with a good degree of sadness. It is sad, that Sephiroth, so intelligent and so strong, was disillusioned by Hojo. Vincent feels it too, almost pity. "Does that make you sad, Vincent?" I see Him still in myself for a brief moment, and it gives me the strength to ask.  
  
And he does look surprised that I would say something so brash, and that I might be able to sound so bitter and accusatory. "It does, Cloud. You and I both know Hojo's nature. And I'm sure you can guess that there were methods Hojo took to prevent Sephiroth from hating him. It does make me sad, that Sephiroth found solace in the one place he should have found only hatred and terror."  
  
Whatever fire was in my blood has left me, and now I only feel guilty and stare at the grass. I can't help but notice that its healthier hear than around Corel, green and alive and springy. I press my palm against it and feel the resistance. "I still don't really understand Sephiroth. I don't think I ever did or ever will. But . . . does that mean anything?"  
  
Vincent bows his head in thought and I watch him, not to judge his movements or try to read the thoughtful chaos behind his eyes, but just to see him. To marvel at the beauty that again was created by Hojo. To want to rip that damn cloth from off his face . . . just to see again. He does not look back at me when he speaks. "It might . . . Sephiroth may have been the masochistic type regarding his emotions, he may have needed to feel abused or threatened. It doesn't seem like him though, does it. Not when he was so indomitable and unswerving in his ways."  
  
"It doesn't seem like Him, but his relationship with Hojo doesn't seem like Him either."  
  
"So I suppose all we've learned is that Zack, for whatever reason, was horrifically angry with him and wanted to see him dead."  
  
"Yeah . . ." I realize I'm staring way too late and feel my ears burn though I don't feel embarrassed. I stare at the grass again, shiny with due and bright with a color that seems unnatural to me in the hue of its greenness. "So that means you're still leaving."  
  
He is close enough to abduct my hand from its resting place in the grass. The impression of my palm makes the grass lay flat, and I wish I hadn't rested it there for so long. "Nibelheim is close. I will hurry, and should make it there within the span of a day. I will work all night and try to find some clue as to what happened and what Sephiroth felt. Then I will return. I will be gone only two days, three at the very most. And I think your strong enough to at least defend yourself and provide for yourself."  
  
I nod quietly and feel ill. I stand and the pain in my muscles is something expected and customary. "Stay with me today at least. Let's continue here, try to get rid of some of those damn leaf things."  
  
Vincent stands and I hear the click of his gun as he pulls back the hammer. I retrieve my sword and lick my lips, wishing I could taste gunpowder there.  
A:N/ Sorry for the massive delay, but I am having the /worst/ time rewriting that lemon! It will get done eventually, but as of yet I still have a ways to go. Until then this was chapter possibly 8 and sorry for not updating sooner. I seem to have trouble writing in the winter. 


	10. Seven Lemon

One of my stories was removed forever by ffnet administration for containing icky nasty completely wrong and unnatural sex. So as to avoid another citation on my ffnet record, the chapter seven lemon can only be read if I send it to you. If you want it, my most current e-mail address is animanogami@aol.com 


	11. Nine

// "You think I'm crazy, don't you."  
  
He does nothing, but I know what He's listening, thinking.  
  
"Well maybe I am, I guess I'd have to be wouldn't I." I smile, knowing that He knows, even if He's not looking. "It's ok, cause you're psycho too, just like me, you would have to be."  
  
He does turn then and offers some indiscernible gaze. I suppose He seems vaguely calculating. "I wouldn't have to be," He says.  
  
"Are you?" I try to keep it innocent and playful. But he knows my mind, and turns to leave.//  
  
"Mother and I never owned a television in Nibelheim; in fact, no one did. We listened to the radio, especially during the war. I used to go with my mother to the market to buy groceries, and when there was no other topic of conversation but the war, the women would sometimes speak of a the young general, the one who seemed to appear out of no where to save us all. One of the ladies who had vacationed elsewhere commented on how handsome he was, beautiful even. No one else knew, in Nibelheim no one else had seen him. Even when recruiting posters began to appear in Nibelheim, they weren't plastered with the General's image, rather a large SOLDIER insignia with the ShinRa Electric Power icon overshadowing it. Of course, it was not Sephiroth's appearance alone that captivated so many. I know that I was inspired by the stories of His strength and tactical genius. Of how the General could infiltrate and purge a fortress with just five men, and of how He still managed to conquer Wutai despite the plagues of yellow fever, the contaminated water, the gangrene, lack of food and weapons, and the lack of knowledge regarding the enemy territory. He still won. I never had to see Him to wish to be Him. I invented my own images of Him, they dissolved from my memory when I actually saw Him, I wouldn't be able to describe how I thought He might look. And as I trained to become a recruit, before I had ever been accepted as a member of the ShinRa military, I kept those images of Him. I would think all the time . . . I am doing this for Sephiroth, so that one day I might meet Him, or so one day I might even best Him. Then I became a unit. I didn't make SOLDIER, and I was devastated even though no one else my age had even come close to getting in. But it was when I became a recruit, that the General of the worlds most elite fighting forces, spoke to us as a whole, and congratulated us for becoming members of the military. Never was there such a complete silence as that day, the day He spoke to us. Others had seen Him, I'd heard rumors about His height, or His coloring . . . but no description came close to what I saw. He truly was beautiful, the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. Some of the others, the one's from Gongaga or Bone Village, the others who had never seen Him were equally awed. And He spoke and /no one/ said a word. No one moved or twitched. We scarcely breathed. All anyone could do was /watch/ Him. I heard His voice, and marveled at the commanding, soft, yet even tone, but I did not hear His words. It pains me now, to not know what He said. I didn't have the presence of mind to process His words. I think very few of us did. He had everyone's attention, everyone's respect. When He had finished and taken leave, some of us cried. I think a lot of them mourned because they had not become what they wanted; they had failed to enter SOLDIER. I cried . . . but I wept for beauty. I never even tried to deny that I thought He was beautiful.  
  
"My attraction to another man should have surprised me, but I was so totally infatuated and in awe of Him that I didn't even know how to be surprised. It's hard to explain . . . did you ever meet Sephiroth? Even when He was under Jenova's control you must have been able to sense some of His magnetism. I guess you can say it was sorta like a sleep spell. You don't realize that you're asleep, and nothing seems out of place when you wake up. Does that make sense? Oh well, either way Sephiroth had entranced me. I loved Him. I was obsessed. I watched Him train. I followed Him to staff meetings. I found out when He was going on missions and hid in the air hangar on the off chance He might be flown to wherever He was going. Just for one glimpse.  
  
"Then there was Zack.  
  
"And there was more of Sephiroth than I could comprehend to exist. There was a person behind the façade and the label, one that I wanted to be with and one that I wanted to know. And I do know Him. I know more about Him than any living person should know. But . . . I don't know how I know. I don't know anything anymore."  
  
"And everything else that you have remembered, you have told me?" Vincent shifts his weight inaudibly and eyes me with some prying gaze, as if I am keeping secrets from him.  
  
"Yes, but from whose point of view I can't say."  
  
"That's what I must find out." He turns towards Nibelheim too dramatically.  
  
"I still don't see how it can help, but go ahead and . . . leave."  
  
"Two days Cloud, that's all I ask. The only thing that could keep me from returning is death."  
  
"Don't be so poetic."  
  
"Apologies."  
  
Panic and uncertainty grip me, not because he is receding, quite the opposite. He has stepped much closer to me, and I shut my eyes, not in anticipation but dread and terror. And I remember feeling these spires of fear poke through me like before, and I know what it was like . . . but what is this like. The metal fingers of his claw move gently to grasp my jaw, and I feel tiny spikes of pain but I know he is not intending to hurt me. I bite my lip and try to stare at the ground, try not to look into the candid depths of his eyes.  
  
"Do you think I will kiss you?"  
  
My breath catches and I swallow too hard, nearly choke with the surprise and the acknowledgement. "I don't know."  
  
His other hand, flesh, moves to mirror his claw and again I feel the contrast, the dichotomy within him. "Do you want me to?" His tone is even and controlled, there is no curiosity or tentative timber in his voice.  
  
I squeeze my eyes shut and do not reason. "I don't know." I wonder how he does it. How he can contemplate or fantasize at all. Maybe it's just the time, the years have made him numb. I open my eyes again and the blur is something expected. I haven't seen with clarity in so very long. And his strong hands move my gaze upwards and his metal claw moves the hair out of my eyes.  
  
"Tell me no, Cloud. Tell me what you feel; tell me what you want to tell me."  
  
"I . . ." I blink my tears away and can't decipher what he is saying. No . . . I know what he's saying, I just don't know what I'm thinking. And for some reason it occurs to me in that moment to wonder what he wants. I wonder if he even wants me, or if he's just playing with me, maybe trying to ease the pain that Sephiroth left behind. "What do you want?"  
  
"Only what you do."  
  
"Then you don't know either." His hands, still around my face, loosen, and he recedes a step. "Just go. I'm tired of delaying this. I'm tired."  
  
He nods once and his hands disappear, the wind on my face is chill. I watch him and his wordlessness, as he mounts his bird and leaves. And it isn't until well after he's gone, that I turn away from where I am standing and feel the emptiness grip my stomach, and realize that I am alone. I stumble and fall, and drag myself to the caves, like I'd planned. And I place myself high up on the rocks, on some proverbial pedestal. I don't know why. And I realize how sick I am, that if it weren't for Vincent I'd be dead. And for some reason this feeling that unknown centrifugal force is sucking me into some black hole is familiar. It is physical, I feel everything whirling and spinning around me and I feel my limbs plastered to the rock and my stomach churns. And then I feel the wind. And I am calm.  
  
I feel like I'm falling, but the weightlessness and the lack of restraints does not unnerve me like whatever crushing power had possessed me before. I'm flying. And it seems so . . . familiar. When was it that I used to fly . . . oh yeah, with Him. We flew all over the world and never ever had to go anywhere. If I close my eyes I can imagine Him standing above me. Wait my eyes were already closed and He was already there, arms outstretched, waiting to hold me. But my eyes are open and they have been ever since I fell . . . I fell? I don't turn away from Him, even though He is close enough to me that no matter which way I turn His image would envelop my vision. But I guess I somehow flailed off of the rock I had been laying on. At least now I know "I must be dreaming." Something shifts in the back of my mind and Sephiroth gives me some intense look of anticipation.  
  
"Is there a day that goes by that you don't say that?"  
  
It seems strange that He speaks. Because my mind is still in the present, so is my body. "Huh?"  
  
"Perhaps you should try and understand exactly what the real world is like."  
  
"But this isn't the real world . . . it can't be, not when You are here." I don't remember ever having this conversation.  
  
"And of course the foolish attitude, as to be expected."  
  
"But You're dead." And the rush of air is sudden and even though I once found solace there, the sheer swiftness of His movement and the swirling wind about us makes me cringe. And I am flat on my back and His arms make a great cage around me, and He stares into my face . . . eye to eye.  
  
"Am I?" He chuckles a little, mostly to Himself. "It may be my tragic flaw." He reaches one hand up slowly, somehow defying all gravity with balanced poise directly above me. His knuckles brush my face and I try to get away. Whatever this is it's cruel. I can feel the rocks digging into my spine and the back of my head, and I can feel His breath on my lips He is so close. And I try to see past him but all I see are the partially collapsed cave walls and the swirling masses of gray and Mako. I am in the Frog Forest. And so is He. I still know it's not possible, that this apparition is only in my mind. It will be dissipated like any mirage. I throw my arms around His broad shoulders, expecting disappearance, but I still feel Him. And I cling to Him like He's real, maybe He is.  
  
"How? Why, Seph? Why?" There are so many questions in my mind I can't even say one or pick one. Why are you here? How did you get here? Why did you let Jenova into your mind? Why did you leave me?  
  
He uses His free arm to embrace me and hold me. "I didn't intend to." Of course He doesn't even need to listen to me speak any questions. And of course I don't need an apology. I bury my face in His hair and cry, trying to maintain at least a little bit of control.  
  
"I missed You . . . I miss You still, I wish You were really here. Oh well it doesn't matter . . . why didn't You come sooner?"  
  
He flows to the ground at my side, still embracing me with one arm. "I wanted to."  
  
I kiss Him and it feels /so/ real. I run my hands through His hair and across His chest, marveling at the sheer authenticity of it all. "I almost died without You."  
  
"I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to."  
  
"I know You didn't, I know it's not Your fault. I love You so much Seph."  
  
"I know. . ."  
  
But the question is still in the back of my mind, and even though I do realize that this isn't real, but that I should still enjoy it, maybe I should ask Him the one question that has been plaguing me the most and the longest.  
  
"What?"  
  
But of course he already knows what I want to ask Him. He knows everything. "Do you love me Sephiroth?" And I avert my eyes from a figment of my imagination and try not to think of how low I am.  
  
"I didn't know."  
  
My head snaps up to gaze into His too-real eyes. . . "You didn't know? What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You are the only person who ever meant anything to me."  
  
I relax a little . . . He always needs to be cryptic even still. "I can live with that." He does not say anything, and His aura is ghostly, almost shifting and celestial, yet physically, he is like stone. I try to think of something to say, anything to keep Him here. "If it weren't for Vincent I'd be dead. He really helped me out, he . . ." And too suddenly I recall that there have been demons spawned in my mind about Vincent . . . things I have been forced to suppress and urges that I should never have indulged.  
  
"You're wrong . . ."  
  
He is not talking about the fact that Vincent saved my life. And I am wrong, I am sick and wrong and disturbing. I don't deserve anything, not even the presence of this ghost. "Y-you think it wrong of me . . . to have such thoughts about . . . Vincent . . ."  
  
". . . I do."  
  
"Oh Seph I am so so sorry I couldn't help it, I am just some pathetic fool and I can't control myself. You know I love you, you know I would kill for you or die for you or do anything in the entire world for you." Images flash through my mind in too bright sudden bursts. Sephiroth at the reactor, me defying Him choosing to ignore His destiny and angry with Him for hurting so many people. That day I did not kill for Him, that day I killed Him. And then later every time I saw Him, Him speaking of His fate and the Promised Land, and me destroying His dreams and His aspirations. And lastly me again, killing Him, never batting an eye, simply extinguishing His life as if I never loved Him. "I'm so so sorry, please forgive me, please."  
  
And then I lean in to kiss Him, but He is not there. I open my eyes and He is gone. I sit up and I feel too small as I gaze around the cave, all alone, and miserable. It is dark outside, and I can hear crickets chirping. So . . . it was just an illusion, just some image, some sequence of events my mind conjured up . . . only . . . as of yet, I have only remembered things from the past . . . I never had that conversation with Him. Maybe . . . maybe . . . He actually was trying to contact me, whether spiritually or physically it doesn't matter . . . maybe He actually truly did love me.  
  
I stumble quickly to my feet . . . "Oh please . . . why . . ." I wonder where my sword is and stagger through the rocks, wondering where I had discarded it. "Just fuck it!!" I scream and collapse on me knees, enjoying the pain of gouging friction. I don't deserve death . . . I can at least comprehend that. I killed the man I love, the man that loved me . . . He did say that didn't He? Maybe not in those exact words but surely He meant it . . . He . . . surely He was here, not but a moment ago. I wipe the tears from my eyes. I was looking for something, wasn't I? It must have been some place, the place where He disappeared to, wasn't it? That must have been what I was looking for. He was always hiding and dodging me and hiding . . . always . . . I'm so tired of games, I don't want to play anymore. I wish He wouldn't hide. "Please come out . . ." Maybe I should just go to sleep. Feel kinda like just . . . never waking up . . . but I guess I'm not allowed to anymore, I guess I have to stay as long as I can . . . need to find Him anyways. I slide down hard to the gritty floor and ignore the rocks imbedding themselves into my forearms and face. All I need to do now is sleep. That's all there is to do now . . . that's all there is.  
  
//I wake up in His bed, it's safe . . . ordinary even. I look outside and it is very dark, it must be very early. The clock is buried beneath layers of discarded clothing, I toss my shirt and His gloves aside. It is three in the morning. The first thought that enters my mind is that it is my birthday. The second is that He is gone. I sigh and blow hair out of my face. The least He could have done was stay with me, especially on my birthday. I traipse through His apartments on the off chance that He is either a) in the kitchen or b) in the bathroom. He is neither place. I flop onto the couch indignantly and turn on the television, planning to wait there until He returns so I can scold Him for running out on me, today of all days. And I realize quickly that the infomercials are covered by a square piece of paper, taped to the T.V. I look around, just in case He's lurking in some hallway, and quickly decide that He must have gone out. I grab the note, turn on the lights and read. The note says:  
  
"If you are reading this, it means you have woken up at around three o'clock, like you do every night. You may have noticed that I am conspicuously absent. If you would like to see me, and rest assured you most certainly do, then you will have to find me. I wont leave the floor, I can give you that much, but the rest is entirely up you. I wish you good luck, and good hunting.  
P.S. Happy Birthday"  
  
He really is too cute sometimes. And annoying too. Cute though. Just to irk Him, I throw on a pair of His pants and one of His shirts, then two of His best socks . . . board meeting type socks. I put on my own boots, give the apartment a once over, I don't put it past Him to trick me by hiding somewhere painfully obvious. He isn't here. I step outside cautiously; He may be planning an ambush. The halls are very dark and very empty. I let my eyes adjust, and see no gleaming of silver sword or hair, and continue forward. I think to myself, if I were Sephiroth, where would I hide. He is especially talented at blending in with shadows. In this darkness He might hide under a table and I would bypass Him completely. I check the lounge first. If I turned on the lights I would alert someone and someone would give me hell about breaking curfew and I really don't want to deal with it. It is darker in here than the halls. There is no light for my eyes to take in. He could be standing in the middle of the room and I would not see Him. I sigh, and turn the lights on, fuck curfew and fuck the night watch.  
  
First glance reveals the lounge to be unoccupied, but first glances can be deceiving. I look under all the tables, behind the couches and soda machines, I even check the fridge. I shut the door a little irritably. The lounge is too obvious anyways, and just so . . . unSephiroth. I doubt He's ever lounged in His life. And He wouldn't be in the kitchens, because He would assume that that's exactly where I would go if I got sidetracked. He wouldn't dare hide in someone's room would He? I prop my hand on my hip, and opt to check the training center then just go back to bed if He's not there. It's late and I'm tired anyways. I turn of the lights and grope through the dark hallways, until I reach the training center.  
  
I sigh exasperated when I do not see Him here. Of course He still might be hiding. I check the locker area, the showers, the pool, behind every weight machine. It's ridiculous really, having me on some insane pursuit on my birthday, almost rude. "Fuck it." And I turn to go back to sleep. When I am halfway back to His apartment I realize He is probably there waiting for me. I should have tried back sooner really. And when I enter the apartment it is still dark. I hold my breath for a few moments just in case He has planned a surprise party and my company flashes the lights on and yells "Surprise!" But there is no one else here. I enter the bedroom and He is sitting on the bed wearing only a pair of my off-day shorts. I glance down at my own attire and gleefully remove my boots.  
  
"I guess I should air out your designer socks. They got sweaty."  
  
He lifts a casual eyebrow and tilts His head just slightly. "I shouldn't have trusted you alone with my socks."  
  
"No, You shouldn't have." I smile and flop onto the bed heavily. "So what did you get me for my birthday?"  
  
"You think I got you something?"  
  
"Well . . . I'd hoped you did. I guess if you forgot you could spend a quiet evening alone on the couch and leave the bed for me."  
  
"I don't trust you alone with my bed either."  
  
I laugh. "Seriously, Seph, what'd ya get me? It better not be practical."  
  
"Of course its practical. Here." He protrudes from His pocket, or rather /my/ pocket, a small green orb.  
  
"Materia? I can deal with that. What kind is it?" I hold it up to the moonlight filtering through the window, feigning identification when really I am only contrasting the color to the hue of His eyes.  
  
"Lightning. Indeed it is nothing impressive, simply practical."  
  
"No I like it. Thank you." I lean in to kiss Him and He pushes me back.  
  
"Do you really think I'm that prudent?"  
  
" . . . it's not cheap--"  
  
"Look under the bed."  
  
"You're silly, Seph." And I lean over the side of the bed and wonder how I had missed that great mass of glinting metal beneath. With only slight resistance, out slides a shining new sword.  
  
"This one is your own, and not the companies."  
  
It's a nice sword, and suitable for my level of skill. I slide my materia into the slot and watch the hilt glow silent green. "Wow, Seph. You didn't have to do all this . . ."  
  
" . . . I owe it to you." His voice is soft.  
  
"Thank you . . ." I lean down to kiss Him and He pushes me away.  
  
"I'm not much fun am I?"  
  
"Oh I'll have fun using these to wipe the floor with you."  
  
"I'm sure. But just in case . . ." He reaches for His other pocket and protrudes a small object. He grasps my hand and tilts it open-palmed beneath His own. He drops His next gift into my hand. "An earring? Bit I don't have my ear pierced."  
  
"That's the fun part."  
  
" . . . what are you gonna do it?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
I laugh. "You're sweet. I bet most people's boyfriends don't put wholes in their heads, I just got lucky. Really though thank you . . . for everything."  
  
"Ahhh, but you still have one more gift."  
  
"Really? What is it?"  
  
He smiles coyly and cups my jaw and leans forward to kiss me.  
  
" . . . that's exactly what I wanted."  
  
"Happy birthday."// 


	12. Ten

// I know that no one likes him, but that dislike is only generated from fear, and they only fear him because he is different. It's weird, I can somehow relate to him . . . it's confusing really, but I understand him. He hardly ever speaks, and I can't see his face, but I know that he is sad and I know he has been tortured . . . somehow . . . and somehow I know what it's like and what he's been through. But that doesn't mean I trust him. It's hard for me to trust anyone anymore. In the few moments he had left to go retrieve the bullets and oil for his weapon, everyone immediately flocks around me, complaining about how weird he is. I'll give him one chance. Everyone deserves at least that. He steps out of the library and my eyes stray involuntarily towards his arm . . . it's more of a claw really. Forged from some metal. The only thing I can think is how sharp his fingertips look. "Ready? You can come with Nanaki and me over the mountains of Nibel.  
  
He nods slowly . . . I think. His movements are subtle . . . but again it's somehow easy for me to read him, and slight gestures are apparent to me, like I was trained to see them. It's so strange, like some de ja vous from another life. His eyes stray to Red . . . I knew I could rely on Nanaki to not judge and he will be content traveling with me and our new member.  
  
The mansion itself gives me only feelings of dread and foreboding, something I feel that despite the obviousness of the manor's terror, the others do not feel as strongly. I /know/ there is something here, I can feel it, and those feelings did not disappear when we found Vincent, or when I encountered Sephiroth. There is something here, something I know somehow. It makes me anxious and jumpy, and all I want to do is leave right now. Yet, the mountains of Nibelheim do nothing to comfort me . . . because whatever it is there too. Maybe it's just my past come to haunt me . . . maybe its something else.  
  
None of us speak . . . our new companion, though I would have thought he would have questions about where we are going and why, is silent as stone. Nanaki is too focused and indifferent anyways to care much about our little human trifles. The silence aggravates me . . . there is tension between us all . . . or maybe just something left unsaid and hanging in the air. And some of those unsaid questions are mine . . . who is this man? What happened to him and why was he locked in a coffin in the ShinRa mansion? I hazard a surreptitious glance back at him . . . he looks young to me, his features anyway. Yet there is something about him that makes him seem old. I shiver despite myself and hurry onward.  
  
The random creatures attacking us are more of a nuisance than anything, no one is hurt, they merely interrupt our journey, and it angers me to know that Sephiroth does not have to contend with such matters. He will be far ahead of us by now. We wander through caves and tunnels, I don't know the mountains as well as I thought I did. It seems hours since we first began, and I can only assume that we might find a path out soon.  
  
The dragon attack is something unexpected and it immediately claws at Vincent. Vincent has already proven to me that he is capable in battle so I do not look to see if he is all right when the dragon lunges for him and I hear a muffled cry of pain. Nanaki blasts the dragon with a quick ice spell and before it can recover, I slash it from behind. The dragons have been difficult to fight, but we have sort of developed strategy and rhythm. Already the great beast is weakened. I hear some low, guttural growling, and leap back in shock as ebbing spheres of fire shower over the dragon, refortifying it. Surely, Vincent would not be stupid enough to cast a fire spell on a fire-breathing dragon. I turn to see what the hell he thinks he is doing, and behind me, instead of the tall man I expected to see, I find a short purple beast with terrible claws and a panicked gaze. I almost move to attack it but Nanaki shoulders me out of the way and before I can even consider any other course of action, I block a tail blow from the dragon. Nanaki attacks and I then I cast a quick demi spell and turn back to the purple beast to see it run and claw rabidly at the dragon's scaly flesh. Vincent is gone . . . and in his wake was left the monster that I see before me.  
  
The dragon dies slowly, after a long fierce battle full of sporadic healings from this would-be Vincent monster. And just as the dragon is absorbed back into the life stream, the beast growls and slowly that arcane sound turns into a human moan. And I watch as Vincent shudders to the ground, restored back to his original form. Nanaki runs to his side and begins to lick his face . . . yet all thoughts I have directed towards are new comrade are far from comforting.  
  
"What the hell was that?"  
  
Vincent takes a long inhalation of breath and I suppose seems to be steadying himself before speaking. He looks me in the eye unflinching and unashamed. "I transform when I am in great danger. It is very difficult for me to control, and once I have given up my physical form, I can no longer control my body. I am focused completely on my attacker."  
  
"What's to say you won't attack me or one of the others?"  
  
"The fact that I am still human enough to distinguish between friend and foe."  
  
Nanaki seems to accept this as a reasonable assurance . . . I am less trusting. I watch Vincent rise to his feet in one single, controlled motion. Nanaki gives me a meaningful look and follows me as we continue through the maze of caves. I decide at once that I cannot trust Vincent and that we would be better off without him. So I endeavor to wear down that control that he seems adamant in retaining. I take the longest ways around everything. I insist on capturing every bit of sparkling treasure I see regardless of how impossible the odds of reaching it. But Vincent is unshakable and it angers me. He does not transform again, doesn't look like he plans to anytime soon.  
  
A little more prosperous than when we began, I finally give up and head towards the only visible exit. I had noticed before that the way out was guarded well by a particularly nasty looking monster, but it is only one more obstacle of many. Nanaki prowls forward and it does not attack. He bows his head low, a yellow flare erupting from where he stands.  
  
"It's called Materia Keeper, it absorbs fire."  
  
I cast an undisguised look of distaste towards Vincent who either pretends not to notice me or truly isn't paying attention, which I doubt . . . he seems the type to notice everything.  
  
We advance upon the monster and only when I am close enough to reach out and touch it does it decide to attack. It lashes at me with its massive horned head, catching me in the ribs but not hurting me too badly. I counter attack it just as Nanaki whispers an ice spell, breath fogging before him in the moist air. I hear Vincent's pistol firing behind me and watch as the beast rears back in pain, then jumps forward, trampling us all. I am the first to recover and I charge at it swiping once then jumping quickly away. Nanaki leaps forward while the monster's attention is diverted and kicks it hard in what I suppose would serve as a neck. More gunfire.  
  
What happens next is a hear a dull roar, and turn swiftly to see if Vincent has transformed again, milliseconds later I regret my decision as I am caught in the full blast of what feels like electric numbing gravity, pulling me down and apart and shocking every nerve and fiber in my body. Trine. My mind recognizes the spell and it's like I always knew it. I stumble forward and attack weakly, and am grateful when I feel the cool wash of a cure spell course over my body. The battle goes on, the creature is stronger than even I thought it would be. Nanaki growls in frustration when the Materia Keeper cures itself, restoring its strength and endurance. Another trine spell and this time Vincent takes the brunt of it. From my peripherals, I see him stagger a bit and bare his teeth, watch one gloved hand clench the dirt. There is a feral glint in his eyes. If he transforms now . . . we are dead. Without really thinking I reach out to him, as if I could really stop something I understand so little. But Vincent is not changing, he is struggling hard against it. He looks up at me in obvious pain, and his eyes widen just a fraction, just barely registering surprise or . . . fear?  
  
"Cloud watch out!" I turn in time to see one large, sharp claw baring down on me with frightening speed. But I never feel it hit me. Vincent somehow leaps in front of me, and takes the blow, then falls to the ground unconscious. And in the interim Nanaki has restored his magic and I feel fainter somehow, like I am far away, and I see Shiva materialize. I am always mesmerized by Shiva and I watch from miles away as she condenses and shapes the moisture in the air, and needles of ice pierce the hard skin of the Materia Keeper. And then I am back as if I was never gone, I dodge an ill-directed blow, then charge forward with a deathblow. I strike it hard down the middle of its head and its legs give out. It falls, then disappears.  
  
By the time I turn around to see if Vincent is alive, Nanaki is already there whispering life back into him. Vincent stirs but does not sit up. And somehow I like him and trust him all the better. No one says anything. I somehow know it must have hurt unbearably to keep that creature locked inside him. And I somehow know that when Vincent took that hit for me, he was doing it to save me, not trying to escape the pain. I bow my head and my field of vision is engulfed by his cape, spread almost dramatically across the floor. All I see is red. I close my eyes and still all I see is red.//  
  
I open my eyes and all I see is red. I stare down at the valley of Cosmo Canyon in the early dawn. The sky reflects the red-clay dirt and the clouds reflect the sky reflecting the dirt and the clouds. Even I can acknowledge such beauty. The only darkness is the small recess of faded light in the crater made by the Ultimate Weapon. I can't really care though . . . it doesn't do much. I scour the red lands, wondering if maybe I can see Vincent and his bird running across the sandy bottoms of the canyon. But no, he would be too far away and is probably already in Nibelheim looking for . . . for whatever it is he wants to find. I press my palms hard to my temples, just because I feel like that's what I should be doing. I have little memory right now, just some sort of constant dull ache in the back of my mind and a reminder of something that I really can't remember right now. The edges of the forest are dull and grey. I know that something is wrong but only I just can't remember what's wrong right now. I feel so tired. But I think I sleep a lot. More than I should really. I don't eat very much. I always forget because I haven't been hungry for so long . . . not food hungry. There isn't anything to eat. Unless maybe he left me something. Maybe there's still some bread left. Is cognac food? Oh well. I stand, never remember sitting down, and wondering why it feels like I've thrown myself from the canyon edge. My body just hurts. It's hard to describe what's in my head. Maybe little pieces of aluminum . . . it doesn't really hurt, no not really that much. But it feels weird . . . kind of reflective, like how foil is reflective. Like some field surrounds my temples so that nothing can get in or out. I guess I should be happy. The forest is very still. There is dew on the ground and it is kind of refreshing against my bare feet. Where are my boots? Maybe I left them with the cognac. I don't normally drink that much. That much of anything really. I probably need water. I remember Minerva when I bend to drink from the stream, and then I remember deer. I stand up and don't remember anything. Didn't I want something? Something I was looking for? I shake my head but it doesn't help. I'm kind of hungry . . . maybe he left me some of that bread from Corel. Maybe it will rain tonight. Maybe there will be thunder and lightning. My boot catches on a raised tree root and I put my hands out in front of me to catch myself. The grass is soft and dry. I wonder where Nanaki went . . . he was here a little while ago. He is a good companion, maybe he went to go get food. I should probably help him. Something pinches my arm and I look down and there is a bee stinging me. Go away. You know you're gonna die now. I flick it away and it flies and I follow it to where it leads me and then I keep remembering that I am sort of hungry and that there should be some bread growing nearby and that bread with honey on it might be a good meal considering how long it's been since I've had a good meal. I grab the bee hive and walk away back to where ever it was I was trying to go in the very beginning . . . only I can't remember where that is. I don't wanna go that way cuz that big plant might eat me so I guess I just should better go back over here . . . only I should probably get a drink of water before I go. I usually don't drink too much. I step in the stream as I leave and I let the water rinse over my toes . . . it feels refreshing. Maybe later I can go swimming . . . if the water isn't too shallow by then. Unless it rains. I wish I had something to pray too . . . I feel like maybe people need to be prayed for right now. I wonder where they all went. I look around. They aren't over there . . . or over there . . . they aren't anywhere. There's a grasshopper though. I catch and it sticks to my hands when I open my palms . . . there is a lot of honey on me. I don't remember how to get back to the bread. I always had trouble with it anyways. I sit down and try to think . . . reason a path out of bugs frogs and big pillars and cliffs. It hurts my head to think so much. Nowhere to go but up. Or down. Maybe I will just rest for a little before.  
  
//I did always hate him . . . I don't know how . . . but I know at least that. I hate him and he deserves to die. For what he did to me and to Zack and to Vincent and to Aeris and Nanaki and . . . Him. For what he did to all of those men in black cloaks who forgot who they were and forgot to eat and forgot how to walk. I /hate/ him. I let Vincent come with me . . . because we both deserve vengeance, and Nanaki as well, who was also subject to Hojo's torture. These were my companions back at Nibelheim . . . back when I still didn't know who I was. Hojo babbles like he always does, and I don't really expect him to make any sense . . . but when he says the name of my angel I look up and for a sick moment . . . I want to turn back around and let him do what he's doing. He wants to help Him. He seeks to /help/ Sephiroth. But I know already that even if I left Vincent would kill him . . . and that if I left and Hojo prevailed, what would happen? How many people would die? I resign myself to what I can only assume is destiny . . . and I ask Hojo just what the hell he thinks he is doing. It is strange . . . he hates me more than any of his other reject specimens . . . but he also remembers me. I hate it. And suddenly I grow focused on what he is saying, some gravity pulls me to his words. And it doesn't register right away, but I see Vincent look both surprised and confused . . . and I wonder how Hojo could possibly be Sephiroth's father.  
  
After I found out who I was . . . I began to notice that Vincent looked like Him, had the same build, the same features only different coloring. And as I learned more about Vincent, that he had somehow been involved in Nibelheim and had been in love with Sephiroth's mother, Lucrecia. And I thought, this is Sephiroth's father . . . but Hojo? No, the idea is ludicrous. I half want to say something . . . to point out that there is no way Hojo could have possibly sired something so beautiful. I do not listen to his continued tirade . . . and I am full of rancor inside. It is a sacrilege to claim to be connected to Him somehow. Even I scarcely acknowledge what we had . . . not because it hurts but because I know I was never good enough for Him . . . and never will be. The thought came to me slowly . . . and from a great distance. And with these thoughts and my new identity . . . I don't even remember what I was trying to be before all this. I know that I took his sword and his clothes . . . but what else, not his name and looking back, it seems not even his perspectives or personality . . .  
  
My thoughts are interrupted, as Vincent raises his voice just barely and I see him aim his pistol at Hojo, more of an accusation than a threat. And my thoughts slip away all together . . . and instead all I can do is fight . . . all I can do is kill.//  
  
I blink into the twilight and wonder when it got so late and wonder why it feels like my mind has been packed in foam. It's like I've been drugged or something . . . I feel so distant and uncontrolled. I lie flat on my back gazing up at the treetops and wondering how I got here . . . and where the hell is my left shoe. A smashed grasshopper clings to my hand, stuck there with something sticky. I don't even wanna know what it is. I sit up and there is a sick slurping sound . . . I look behind me to find that I had been pillowed by a lovely beehive, dripping with honey and dead insects. I sigh, as if my luck could get any worse. I reach back to feel my hair. Just perfect. If the honey didn't transform me into a sugary snack . . . I might just leave it in, who cares how I look anyways. But as it is I'm sure the smell is attracting every mosquito in the world. I traipse through the woods . . . wary of the night and praying that we killed everything. I'm not sure I can fight right now . . . especially with my sword conspicuously absent. I reach the stream and there are a series of different foot prints in the mud. One set of standard issue ShinRa SOLDIER boots is clearly visible, no less prominent are the human foot prints with toe, heel, and arch. Then both, one boot one naked. I sigh . . . my shoe could be anywhere by now. I bend low, knees resting on the banks, and plunge my head under water, trying to rinse out the honey. I think it may be time to take the dreadlock approach of hair maintenance. I surface, look around me, still wary, drink a little, and decide to head back to the relative safety of my cave. I don't even have to think about it anymore, it's automatic . . . jump here, climb this, go under that. No one will ever be able to get to me . . . only a handful of people on the planet have the skill to even battle the beasts here. I'm sure He would have no trouble, not that He will ever get the opportunity to find out . . . or maybe He already /has/ been here. Some of the haziness in my mind wavers, and I see Him in the foreground of my cave.  
  
And too suddenly everything comes back . . . and my mind flooded by memory renders my body incapable of even standing, and I fall to my knees. Oh gods He came to me . . . He doesn't want me anymore I loved Him and I killed Him and now I have betrayed Him. He loved me . . . He said He did . . . and I keep thinking about Vincent . . . having dreams about Vincent and not Him. Why?? How??? How can I even think about Vincent? Not only is it near blasphemous . . . he is /nothing/ compared to Him. Weaker and uglier, crueler, so incredibly imperfect it makes me want to scream. Sephiroth loved me. He really did He said so. And I took that and I ripped His heart out and I shredded everything that we had . . . I took a utopian world and threw it away . . . and now I've even disgraced the memory of it by coveting something else, something infinitely less appealing . . . and Vincent deserves more than that . . . it's not his fault that he can't compare. I smack myself without thinking, the sharp sting of my palm against my face barely registering. /Don't think about Vincent. Just don't think about him./ I grind my teeth, trying to think of Sephiroth but it's so /hard/. I don't even have any clear memories of him, because I /still/ don't know which ones are which and all of them are foggy, like looking at my life through a crystal ball. And of all the things I am not, I am certainly no prophet. I don't know my own past, barely aware of the present, don't care about the future. I don't deserve to go to the Promised Land, I don't deserve to ever see Him again, not even in my dreams or memories. All I want is to never have to think at all ever again. I want that haze . . . that crazed inane distraction and denial. I want my left boot to be lost forever and I don't even want to realize it's gone. I remember last night. I remember every word He spoke to me and before that I remember Him poised above me, kissing me. And before that I remember falling. And even after all of that I fall again. I stagger to my feet and my knees are bloody. And I run as fast as I can. I can't run away, there is no where to go. I know what I am doing and I want to do it. I run hard towards the wall and pray to every god I know that it will knock me unconscious. I don't remember feeling the impact.  
  
//I must have died. This swirling green surely must be life stream. I cannot feel it . . . not like I used to. It is more of a presence than a pain. It does not tingle, or burn, or dissolve. If this is death I am disappointed . . . I expected to feel more anguish, some sort of pain, some penance. But this is just nothing.  
  
And quite rapidly it turns into something. I see Zack, shouting and throwing his hands to the skies, countenance etched with exhaustion and fury and . . . hatred. And then I see Sephiroth, who's face I cannot read. And I can't hear what they are saying. Their voices are muffled, and sound as if words were spoken in some ancient tongue. And nothing changes . . . Zack is yelling and pointing and ranting, and Sephiroth just stands there, saying nothing, doing nothing . . . I wonder if He feels nothing.  
  
Why am I seeing this . . . this is no memory of mine, and if it were Zack's memory, I would be seeing it through his perspective. I would be yelling. But instead . . . I hover above this scene, unable to do anything but observe. And nothing changes. Maybe this is my hell. But it would be far worse if Sephiroth would do something . . . if he were to break and show some emotion, then that would be truly hellish. But he doesn't move. In fact, His features are obscured, like I'm watching Him from underwater. But I can see Zack. It's frustrating and I want to leave. But I can't move. I cannot see my body or know if it's still even there. Maybe I'm alive, and just dreaming or just having some unconscious, fever induced hallucination. Or maybe this isn't /my/ hell. Maybe this is His. Maybe this is what He sees and feels everyday . . . yet, it doesn't make any sense. Surely the greatest anguish would be derived from the memory of me betraying Him and killing Him. So I watch this unchanging scene and it plays over and over again like a broken record. I listen hard but hear nothing, and I watch intently but His face is still obscured and hazy. I scrutinize the surroundings, trying to figure out where they are. Nibelheim, it seems obvious. Sephiroth met his plight there. But there is some doubt that lingers in my mind. Whatever room this is seems somehow morphed and mutated. It is not the inn. I swallow and feel thirsty. It seems ages that I have been watching. I've lost count how many times Zack has turned his hands to fists and screamed. I don't even know what they are fighting about. I can't get close enough to do anything.  
  
I turn my attention away. Maybe this is death, maybe I killed myself. This is torture, watching them but not being able to see. I do not want this, I really really want to leave. But I can't get out I can't even move. There's no way to leave, I am trapped here, maybe for eternity. And I can do nothing but cry, silently, softly. This is the hell I deserve.//  
  
"I shouldn't have left you, I should have known you would end up doing something like this."  
  
Sensation returns and there is pain. I'm fairly certain that my head has split open and my brains are spilled all over the floor. I dare not open my eyes. Something wet and rough, yet very gentle brushes against my forehead. It is cool, and eases the pain some minute amount. "Water." And Vincent lifts his water jug to my lips and pours slow trickles of water into my mouth. I swallow slowly, having little control over my tongue or my throat, or anything really. It does surface in my mind, the inquiry as to what he found, but I already now the answer and for now I'm in too much pain to even ask.  
  
"You seemed to be doing so much better, when I left. I thought maybe you would wait for me to come back, to be patient and not hurt yourself. I'm sorry Cloud, I shouldn't have left you."  
  
I want to tell him that he shouldn't be sorry, but I can't. I can't even move.  
  
"You really did yourself in this time." His voice wavers and though I had fought against it I open my eyes. I thought there would be some blinding light to stab my aching head, but it is dark out, and I can't see much of anything at all. I wanted to see if he was crying, but he is blurry and faceless. "Try not to move." He doesn't wait for any acknowledgement on my part before letting his hands hover over my head and letting the green wash of cure flow over me. The pain decreases, not by a marginal sense but regional. It shrinks from around my temples and moves towards my face.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He says nothing. I try and sit up but his hands press to my shoulders and keep me prone on the ground. "Did you eat anything? Drink anything while I was away?"  
  
I opt for a spoken negation. "I don't remember. I might have."  
  
" . . . Did something happen, Cloud?" It is not a question, more of a demand really. He says 'tell me what happened now, you ungrateful pitiful excuse for a human.'  
  
"Later . . . not important." I can move my arms now, and my feet. "Did you find anything out?" I am humoring him as much as myself. Hoping maybe somehow that he found a resolution to everything, and also I want to divert his attention from my insanity and suicide attempts.  
  
"Well . . . I'm afraid I became preoccupied a bit."  
  
I bend my neck to look him in the face. "What?" All that, after all his promises and assurances and determination to help me, and he gets preoccupied? I barely restrain myself from saying something. I clench my jaw and bite my tongue, and stare determinedly at the ceiling of the cave.  
  
"I know, it sounds ludicrous and I cannot express how sorry I am." He pauses for a long moment and I still manage to stay quiet. "I might even imagine, I know how he felt, sitting in that library, paging through his life. I . . . You are not the only one with unanswered questions Cloud. Half the reason I went to Nibelheim was to get proof . . . to feed my own morbid curiosity. It never occurred to me, when I was younger and more naïve, that when Lucrecia became pregnant that the child might be mine. Hojo talked on and on about his contribution and his blood and his child, so I never even had a chance to think that her child might be mine as well. And it never really occurred to me until . . . until you pointed out how we look the same, speak the same, even to some degree act the same. So I had to find out if it was true."  
  
I sigh, forgiving him somehow. "I had begun to suspect it as well. So what is the truth then?" The darkness seems to glitter, it is almost beautiful.  
  
"I found one of Hojo's journals, several actually, but this one in particular was the most revealing for me. I will read from it, if you wish me to."  
  
I nod and wince, and Vincent's hands tread over my cheeks and heal me again, this time the pain confined to only my forehead and nose. I know I must have broken a few bones . . . it /hurts/. "Read to me."  
  
I hear him thumbing through pages and he pauses, lights a small candle that does not hurt my eyes, and reads. "'The overall project has been successful with only a few shortfalls. We now make preparations to transport lab equipment, specimens, and assistants to Midgar, where the technology might allow us to further study the effects of Mako enhancement and the addition of Jenova cells. ShinRa has been informed of the unfortunate accident involving the Turk and the dragon, and has not questioned me about it. As for the Turk, in actuality I have locked him in a coffin, in the basement of the Nibelheim Mansion. As an after thought I left clues for his release, I don't know why, I thought maybe it would be fun. The death of my assistant was also not questioned, yet condolences were sent. I do regret her parting, she was an amazing scientist and a very bright woman. I may even have loved her . . . but she was a whore,'" he chokes on the word, '"and spent too much time with that Turk, so they will both pay. As for the specimen, I have done what DNA testing I could, and I have found the genetics of three different life forms, none of whom are myself. Regardless though, the child is mine, no one else can claim it, and those who try will be faced with unspeakable tortures, this I vow . . .' That is what he wrote, and after I found that I grabbed what other journals I could find and fled. And then I thought I must know how you feel as well. You killed your only love, and I killed my son." His voice breaks and he turns his head down and claws at the stone floor. His teeth are gritted.  
  
Not knowing what to do, how to comfort him, I speak. I pour myself out to him and pray that maybe we might find comfort within each other . . . even though I know I don't deserve it. "He came to me, He was here, I wasn't dreaming or remembering. He was here. He told me that I was the only person that ever meant anything to Him, and that He missed me. And then He said that He didn't approve of . . . of the ways I think about you. And I don't blame Him, I shouldn't think about you, but He looked so /hurt/ and wouldn't let me apologize and then He /left/. So it was me . . . and, and that's why I ran into the wall."  
  
Vincent looks up at me, unshed tears in his eyes, he looks pained and confused, bewildered and anguished. He bows his head and fumbles for words. He closes his eyes and speaks. "Cloud . . . I . . . it wasn't you. He never loved you, he never had anything to do with you. It was Zack, it always was."  
  
And the glittering darkness swallows me, and every path that I have taken coalesces into this single moment, and I wish I was dead. 


	13. Eleven

There are voices in my head . . . they are familiar, I recognize them. But I don't know what they are saying. So many different voices. So many different people, like all the people I ever knew or ever even met, people who walked passed me on the street or people behind me in line at the store . . . speaking to me all at once, and trying to tell me something that seems so very important. And the roar of it all is almost deafening and I sob in frustration . . . I can't hear anyone and I /need/ to know what they are trying to tell me. And then some of the voices ebb as others recede in volume, and then back again. And from the myriad sounds and tones . . . I hear Aeris speak my name. "Cloud . . ." I speak her name reaching out though I cannot see and have no hopes of ever reaching anyone. And then I feel she is very far away, at the center of the planet maybe, or maybe farther even than that. But some other presence replaces hers and I can sense that Zack is near; I can almost smell him or taste him in the air or something. He sounds angry, indignant. "That's not was I trying to say!" And I turn and my motions are sluggish, and by the time I have moved to his voice, he is gone, spiraling out towards some unknown plane.  
  
Whatever tangent I am on spirals too, and the colors that are not there at all turn darker. And Sephiroth speaks to me. "You were in SOLDIER 1st class and you didn't even know that?" And it doesn't make sense these voices . . . Sephiroth never said that to me, He spoke to Zack. And Zack and Aeris . . . both speak to me but convey nothing to me. I sob again and try to leave, try to get away from the near tangible swell of emotions and voices and terror. And then some unknown voice descends upon me, it does not sneak from behind me or recede or run away. It presses down upon me like a demi spell and I am nearly crushed. "I love you." And it lifts immediately and the waves leave me and I am lying on the floor of a cave and it is still dark. "W-what did you just say?" I open my eyes and the pain is confined only to the bridge of my nose. I hardly notice it. And Vincent's palms are pressed near my eyes, healing me, and I can see the blisters already forming on his human hand and fingers from casting too many spells. And he looks down at me, guilt in his eyes but does not withdraw his hands.  
  
He bows his head. "You heard me."  
  
Never lacking eloquence except for now. "I-I don't think I did."  
  
He withdraws his hands then and refuses to look me in the eye. "Sephiroth may not have loved you but--"  
  
"But how do you /know/ that!!" I sit up too quickly and my head swims and my vision waivers, but my anger is steadfast.  
  
"I found at least this much before my own quest consumed me. Here, I will read it to you, and I know it hurts, Cloud, but please . . . listen." I watch silently as he selects one of the several journals he brought back with him. He holds the book close to the candle and I watch the inky words illuminate with yellow light, and listen silently and patiently as Vincent begins to read. "'Specimen C continues to be influenced by Jenova infusions. His metabolism has increased by fifteen percent and his strength, endurance, and overall physical performance has also increased incrementally. Side effects are similar to those of previous specimens, including: delirium, sweating, nightmares, and tremors. Specimen Z, however, has had no response, neither positive nor negative, towards the infusions. All aspects of the specimen's being have remained the same. Rather than terminate the specimen, I believe I will teach it a lesson for meddling in things that ought not to have been meddled with. I once vowed that the First Specimen belonged only to me, and that should anyone else claim him they would face consequences. Being a man of my word, specimen Z will most certainly suffer for undoing much of what years of training had accomplished. The fate of my original specimen came as a hard loss for me; however, due to specimen Z's continued interference, the original became stubborn, insubordinate, malicious, and even dangerous. Termination was imminent, but it could have been avoided if not for that maddeningly obnoxious SOLDIER. I will take special measures to make sure it feels nothing but pain . . .'" He stops reading and I let everything sink in. Of course I could contest it; there is nothing there that actually confirms anything. But I can't delude myself again, not like this. Sephiroth told Zack everything, about the lab and the experiments, and Zack fought for Him . . . Zack made Him believe that He was more than just a rat or a specimen, and Hojo tortured him for it. I truly was just another pawn . . .  
  
"Oh . . . fuck." I lie back down and feel sick to my stomach. Vincent seizes my hand with his claw and places his human hand on my forehead; healing me one last time . . . I don't feel any pain in my head anymore, at least not physically. "Gods . . . why?"  
  
"Cloud . . . please. At least now you know that you haven't betrayed Sephiroth. You were his enemy and not his friend. You didn't do anything to hurt him, Cloud. You merely did what you had to."  
  
I can't breathe and I can't panic. I feel poisonous, like my blood is full of mercury. I feel so heavy and toxic and terrible. Why am I alive . . . gods why? "It was me that time. It's been all I've thought about since I remembered. I know it was me. We were at Nibelheim. I've never been more certain of anything in my life."  
  
His voice is sympathetic. "Cloud, that doesn't mean anything. You said so yourself that it was often Sephiroth would have a cadet share his bed. If it really did happen, you can't expect it to have meant anything to him . . . you did nothing to betray him."  
  
"Didn't I?" I am conscious of a large part of my mind shutting down. And I think of all those times I had to restrain myself and berate myself for doing things that would betray Him further. But He used me, He never loved me, never wanted me, never thought of me as anything but a body and pawn. I never experienced what it was like to be loved by Him. I guess . . . I guess I haven't experienced much . . . Zack had everything and I had nothing. I should have known that I wouldn't be so lucky. That my life was pointless and wishful and stupid. I should have known that I'm not worthy of His love. And He never came to see me, I'm just crazy. People can't come back from the dead, no matter how much we want them to. "So what was it all for?"  
  
He does not answer immediately, even though I expect him to. "All this? All your turmoil and suffering?" He scoffs. "I have yet to understand that. What is any of it for? Why must we suffer so?"  
  
"No . . ." I say and touch my lips, they feel numb. "Suffering is a choice. We both made it. I never had to worry about it . . . I mean us. I never had to fucking run into a wall, or be cautious. I could have kissed you that night by the river. It wouldn't have mattered. And if you had kissed me goodbye before you left, that wouldn't have mattered either."  
  
His claw grows slack from around my palm.  
  
I open my eyes and look at him. "I think you're beautiful . . . maybe I would have been able to love you, had the circumstances been different. Maybe you could kiss me goodbye now?" Static in my head.  
  
"But you're not going anywhere." His grip tightens again. "And neither am I. We can stay here."  
  
I sigh and close my eyes. "I do love you Vincent . . . I wouldn't mind staying here, but I have my answer now. I can't live any longer. I just can't."  
  
"Cloud, please don't say such things."  
  
"Did you say you loved me? I heard you say it . . . did you mean it?" I open my eyes again and he nods slowly.  
  
"It is a strange love. But it is there, I love you."  
  
Memories play in my head like a broken record. "What does it mean to you . . . what do you mean when you say this." I smile as one of the memories that isn't mine sounds over and over in my head. It's not even bittersweet. I hate it. I hate Zack, I hate Sephiroth. I hate myself.  
  
"I need you Cloud. If you died, I'd die too. You're the only thing keeping me alive, especially now, after all the knowledge I've gained. After all of the things I did."  
  
"Dependence." I watch stars sparkle, how'd they get inside? I remember something like this, looking up at the ceiling and being able to reach out and almost touch the heavens. "Fucking dependence." So close I could touch them. Freezing burning, whatever. "Nothing matters."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Do you think you deserve to die Cloud?"  
  
Even the stars seem to blink at this, confused and wondering. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I. He didn't love me, never ever ever loved me. No one ever loved me."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Nothing matters."  
  
The silence presses down on me hard and I gasp quietly . . . it /hurts/. I feel my body go into arrest it seems, this squeezing, crushing, breath stealing pain. A groan of anguish escapes my clenched jaw. "It never ends Vincent . . . gods don't you understand the pain never ends . . ."  
  
Silence enshrouds me again . . . and I am dependent on him too. Just to hear him fucking speak is one of the only things I really need. When deprived of these words, his voice, my soul shrivels and convulses. If this silence lasts too long . . . I'll just die from that.  
  
"Zack loved you."  
  
"No, he loved Sephiroth."  
  
A small exhalation. "I don't think he did Cloud. I don't think so at all."  
  
Capillaries burst in my head and I see bright fireworks before my eyes . . . I reach out to touch them but they aren't there. Pictures squeeze into my mind . . . oh why . . . everything is distorted and dizzy, Zack kissing me or holding me or reassuring me again and again and again . . . Zack, sacrificing his own life to save mine. He . . . surely he must have loved me, to do such a thing, to die for me.  
  
"Of course he loved you Cloud."  
  
"But . . . these memories . . . all of these memories, I love . . . I mean Zack loved Sephiroth. With all he had in him."  
  
Vincent fumbles forward a little, obviously eager to keep me talking, anything to keep me thinking, to keep me alive. I don't pay attention to it. "Perhaps. Maybe it was merely your emotions that you felt, and not Zack's."  
  
I shake my head and the stars swirl and spiral in all different directions. "No . . ." Weak and feeble and afraid. What is this? Why I am I always like this . . . just so fucking stupid. Why can't I just accept reality? "No it's not so . . . our emotions were different . . . we both loved Him, but I was powerless and drowning in it. He wasn't."  
  
"If Zack loved him Cloud, don't you think he would have gone to try and instill some form of sanity in him? He rescued you Cloud, was by your side for all those years. Don't squander the life he gave you Cloud."  
  
Vincent ceases to be anything save a voice and some words. Echoing in the dark recesses of the cave. "My life is my own. My death likewise . . . but I do wonder about it." I sit up a little and do not hurt . . . "Do you really think he loved me?"  
  
Vincent nods once, eyes sincere and deep, blood red in the glow of the candle. "I know he did Cloud." He turns and stares at some fixed point.  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
He lifts on shoulder nonchalantly in what might be a shrug. "I just do."  
  
" . . . Did you know this whole time, that Sephiroth never loved me . . ."  
  
He shakes his head, eyes distant, focused far away.  
  
I lie back down and stare at the stalagmites lining the cave. They shimmer with condensation . . . not stars at all, just water. "I thought they were stars . . ." I reach out again to touch.  
  
Vincent looks at me then, a small labored smile on his lips and looks up at the glistening ceiling. "Things are rarely what they seem."  
  
"Things are rarely what they seem . . ." I echo, hands still outstretched to catch whatever water might fall from the heavens. "Things are rarely what they seem." Maybe Zack wasn't what he seemed, maybe even Sephiroth, maybe Vincent. "You seem . . . so cold Vincent. But you aren't are you."  
  
He doesn't answer, maybe even he can't admit that he is only human, prone to fits of love and passion and grieving and death and everything all over again. "People do what they must Cloud, to save themselves."  
  
"From what?" A bright jewel of condensation falls from the ceiling, Mako- green and shimmering. It falls to the floor and disappears.  
  
"From many things. Pain, injustice, rejection . . . truth, would it be the case."  
  
"Do you hide from truth?" I wonder what different minerals make up the rocks in this cave . . . how many years it took to form the layers. How many conversations has this cave witnessed?  
  
"We all do . . . in some way we all do, even me, even you."  
  
I laugh and the sound echoes awkwardly in eddies. "Especially me . . . always something I can't let myself see . . . always something to numb the pain . . ."  
  
Vincent turns to me again very slowly, his eyes blank, but somehow not. "If you hide truth from yourself to numb the pain . . . you've been doing a poor job at that." He gestures to my forehead. "What made you do that Cloud?"  
  
I sigh. "I thought I told you . . . I'm crazy we both know it, but He was here, and He . . . He told me things."  
  
There is a long pause. "What did he tell you?"  
  
I struggle to remember . . . "That . . ." What had I been doing? I'd fallen I remember that much, He caged me in His arms . . . told me . . . what did he tell me? "I don't remember. I feel like it's important."  
  
"He's dead Cloud."  
  
"So was Lucrecia."  
  
He shuts his mouth quickly, and stares at the floor. " . . . try then, to remember. The last words the visage of Lucrecia spoke to me comfort me more than you'll ever know. Perhaps it will be the same for you."  
  
"Or I could slam into a stone wall." I try to remember anyways. Zack and Sephiroth swirling around in a room and yelling and being angry . . . when was that? Some vision . . . when . . . "I saw Zack and Sephiroth . . . from way up high. They were in a room, and Zack was livid, but I couldn't hear what he was saying."  
  
"Sephiroth told you this?"  
  
"No . . . this was . . . later I guess." Vapor forms in my mind, and I see again myself spinning for eternity around that room, watching them . . . still silent. "Sephiroth told me . . . well first I fell." I point to the top of the alcove I was on for some reason, and notice how bloody my knuckles are. "And everything was swirling and crazy . . . I thought maybe it was just another dream . . . dreaming." I must have been dreaming . . . "and he said 'Is there a day that goes by that you don't say that . . .'" The rug looks expensive, antique even. The floor is nothing but painted concrete . . . but the rug is nice. The desk is cherry wood. The bookshelves the same. Both dusty and scratched . . . older probably than even the rug.  
  
" . . . and . . ." I hear Vincent's voice but do not see him.  
  
"Wait . . ." and something clicks in my mind. Something merges . . . finally, it feels like finally I have one mind again. I close my eyes tight and nearly weep . . . there's no way to explain, just what it's like. I have my own memories. Tears escape my eyes and drip onto the rug, it brightens. I run my hand through the tassels at the end, still smooth, but dusty, and I stifle the urge to sneeze. I sit up slowly, to get away from all the dust . . . and Sephiroth is standing there . . . right in front of me . . . but not seeing me at all, no, not at all . . . but I'm not really here am I. He is looking in a different direction. I look behind me, and there stands Zack, hands fists and eyes fire. He breathes hard and the rage in him is electric. I move away, /afraid/ of the raw power there.  
  
"I must be dreaming," Zack says, his voice dangerously soft and full of venom and hatred.  
  
The General gracefully crosses his arms in front of His chest, and stares unflinching in the face of Zack's anger. "Is there a day that goes by when you don't say that?"  
  
Zack's shoulders sag and he glares hard at The General. "Oh come on, give me a break." His voice is louder now, not pleading but exasperated and cruel. "How am I supposed to contend with you, and your aloof fucking attitude. How am I supposed to deal with you taking what I wanted and crushing him? It's just not fucking fair."  
  
I look around . . . "Vincent do you see? Do you see what's happening?" I receive no response, save for Sephiroth, but He is not talking to me, just Zack.  
  
"Perhaps you should try and understand exactly, what the real world is like." He brushes a strand of silver hair away from His face . . . cool and collected, no indication that wrong doing has occurred.  
  
It's not the real world though . . . is it? My thoughts are stifled as Zack bristles visibly, and his hands clench to fists again. "You're a prick Seph. The real world blows, and I thought I might have been able to change it. At least for one person I thought I might have been able to make a difference."  
  
I know what Sephiroth's retort will be . . . He's said it to me before . . . I say the words in unison with Him. "And of course the foolish attitude, as to be expected." He's not dead at all.  
  
"Damn it Seph, why wont you just /listen/ to me! Why do you have to hurt him? Why do you have to hurt /me/? All I ever wanted was to be your friend, Seph, be someone who could love you. And you turn around and stab me in the back. You're nothing but a goddamn self righteous asshole." Zack is rigid and tense, trying to restrain himself from attacking The General.  
  
"Am I?" Sephiroth chuckles a little, mostly to Himself. "It may be my tragic flaw." But it's not funny . . . none of us think so. I can see now, what he's doing. Laughing something off to make it more bearable for Himself . . . what He needs to bear though is beyond me.  
  
"I can't fucking believe you!!" Zack grabs a random paperweight from the desk and throws it hard at Sephiroth, he misses, but The General flinches just barely. "This isn't funny!!! Just try, just for a minute to see that you've completely destroyed him, and by doing so hurt me. You have to at least realize how much time and energy I put into helping you, and regardless of whether or not my efforts were in vain, you should at least have the decency to leave us alone! You don't even realize how much you've hurt him!"  
  
The General's demeanor shifts and He eyes the indentation in the wall where the paperweight struck. This isn't something He can brush aside as He's done in the past . . . this isn't something small that deserves to be forgiven. "I- I didn't intend to."  
  
And Zack stops, he too caught off guard by the blatant honesty and vulnerability displayed before him. Still angry though, always and forever angry. "Then why the fuck did you /do/ that?"  
  
Sephiroth's eyes grow unfocussed and He is contemplating . . . and confused somehow. After a long silence, interrupted only by Zack's heavy breathing He says, "Because I wanted to."  
  
Zack throws his hands up and runs them violently through his hair. His fingers quiver and I can tell he wants nothing more than the security of his sword in his hands, or Sephiroth's neck trapped in his grip. "Yeah well . . . sometimes it's not about what you want, Seph." He still has the presence of mind to argue, to deliberate . . . it's what made him a SOLDIER.  
  
The Zack takes a step away, a terrified step back, and I look up and Sephiroth has tears shining bright in His eyes. I too move away, scramble farther into the corner I've put myself in. "I'm so sorry," He says, gently lowering His face to His hands. "I really didn't mean to."  
  
I look back at Zack, his left foot placed behind him as if to run away. Tears well up in Zack's eyes as well but he brushes them aside hastily, irritated. "You know he won't even look at me now, he /loves/ you Seph, so much more than I ever did, and that's saying a lot.  
  
"I know . . ." Sephiroth mutters quietly, face still hidden.  
  
Zack's jaw hardens and he takes a deliberate step forward, reestablishing his presence, his position. "Hey . . . .Seph?"  
  
"What."  
  
Zack swallows hard and stares at a corner of the rug. "I don't think I can forgive you this time." The silence and the stillness are thick and heavy, suffocating. Zack offers The General a half glance, and Sephiroth is staring at him, lips slightly parted. "Don't act so shocked . . . you had to have known this would come sooner or later."  
  
Sephiroth does not move. "I didn't know."  
  
"Then you are blind and hopeless." Zack turns away from Him, Sephiroth's expression clearly too much for him to handle. And I know Zack would cave . . . were Sephiroth to break down and beg and plead for forgiveness, Zack would forgive Him in a heartbeat . . . but The General is too prideful for His own good and He stands quietly, shock etched on every line of his countenance.  
  
"You are the only person who ever meant anything to me." He still stares at Zack, hardly breathing, hardly moving.  
  
Zack clenches his jaw harder and squares his shoulders. "I can't forgive you . . . not after what you did to Cloud when you /knew/ I was in love with the poor kid. It's your problem Seph, you are too dependent on me and too prideful to realize that some of your little underlings are important too, maybe even worthy of your company, friendship, or even love. You think you're too good to love anyone else."  
  
I whisper the words with Him again, now knowing what they mean, who they were intended for. "You're wrong . . ."  
  
Zack turns to face Him again, realization dawning in his mind. "Oh fuck . . . you- you still want him don't you?" They both look so confused and distressed and pained.  
  
" . . . I do." Sephiroth puts his face in His hands again, does not move.  
  
"Shit Seph, I . . ." Zack trails off, and I see the conflict in his eyes. He half wants to be the martyr, half wants to surrender both Sephiroth and me, so we might find happiness in each other. But then he realizes if he did that, he would be alone, never have anyone, at least not the way we had Sephiroth or the way he had me. And his expression hardens and turns malicious towards Sephiroth. And I know what Zack thinks . . . //If this is just some passing fancy or fling he wants to have it would just /kill/ Cloud the second Seph decided he's tired of it.// "I-I can't let you have him. He is /mine/ and I worked hard to give him strength and confidence. I'm not just gonna give him to you so you can fuck with his mind and body. I /absolutely/ refuse. I refuse to be alone and I refuse to let you hurt us anymore." Zack turns away before he can gauge Sephiroth's reaction, and stands there with his arms crossed. And I can see Sephiroth in my mind's eye, even as I stare at Zack. I see The General's hate or deceit, shock, dismay, some emotion that he probably has never experienced in a long time. And Zack finally turns around to see, to see what the man he loved is doing. And I turn too to look at my angel . . . but He is gone. Never made a sound, just left Zack there, and the three of us might as well have died right then . . .  
  
" . . . I see now . . . so that's how it happened."  
  
I shake my head hard and look around. The room fades quickly, some room at Nibelheim . . . one of the bedrooms. But it is gone now, and here is my cave again, and Sephiroth and Zack are gone, just Vincent here now. "He . . . He loved both of us, didn't He."  
  
Vincent nods, a sad smile on his lips. "Sephiroth fell in love with you Cloud, and was so confused by it that he didn't know how to react while he was with you. When he learned that he could have neither you nor Zack . . . well it may have been too much. That may have been what pushed him over the edge."  
  
I lay back. Try to take everything all in. Everything pieces itself together . . . "Sephiroth did come to me . . . He tried to tell me what happened, but I didn't understand . . . I thought He was telling me that I was wicked, for loving you Vincent." Vincent smiles again . . . he's been smiling more and more. "He showed me all these different things . . . but I never was able to work them out together. He loved me . . . He really really did, not for long but He did."  
  
"Come here Cloud."  
  
I scramble to my feet, feeling fifteen again and crawl to Vincent's side. I cry slow tears as Vincent embraces me, both of us heedless of his claw. "He came to me Vincent . . . to tell me He loved me. He came here . . ."  
  
Vincent does not say anything, simply clutches me tight, his metal fingers boring uncomfortably into my skin, but I barely notice . . . I mourn again . . . and plague my mind with questions . . . wonder what would have happened if Sephiroth had begged, or if Zack had gone after Him, or if I had known somehow, and could have stopped both of them. I fall asleep after the candle dies . . . and I am afraid of what I might dream.  
  
A/N: Hello everyone again.sorry for the delay with this chapter. This still isn't the end. If you are confused, or even if you aren't I suggest you read chapter the chapter labeled chapter 9 or at least the scene when Sephiroth allegedly visits Cloud. Also please review . . . it'd be badass if I got one hundred. Thanks again. Please feel free to email me and yell or ask questions. 


	14. Twelve

I know He will come. And suddenly I see Him before me. As He was caught in some half death form, one huge brilliant feathered wing sprouting from His shoulder blade. And somehow His shifted gait is so perfect, so indiscernibly lovely. The long flight feathers brush what would be floor if there was floor, as He steps towards me. He cannot speak to me, ghosts or visages or whatever are only memories pieced together. Right? He smiles at me, his shifting weight and dragging wing make no sounds. He is close enough to take my hand in His and smiles still as He stares at my fingers and twines them slowly with His. He brings my hand to His heart, and I feel no pulse of life. But His eyes . . . oh those eyes, never ever have I seen them more beautiful. Never ever . . . there is happiness there. And I weep in thanks, that on this plane He is happy. "Oh god . . . I love you." He tilts my chin up to kiss me and I can feel but some beseeching presence vague around my lips. He pulls back and his lips move . . . "I love you too . . ."  
  
A thin ray of light pierces the interior of the cave and wakes me. Vincent's arms are locked firmly around me, and I pull close to him and nestle my cheek into his breast. I lie in his arms for awhile, toying with the crushed fabric of his cape and trying to ignore how thin his frame is beneath his clothes. I contemplate waking him, but I know I can't. Maybe I'll just wait a bit longer. I extricate myself delicately from his protective arms, and marvel that I do not wake him. He must be so tired . . . I still the thought. We wont be tired soon. I stretch and find my arms barely move . . . I'm so stiff. I sit and gaze around, searching for some excuse to stay awake. The chocobos graze quietly outside. I wince quietly as I realize I never took the saddle off my bird when we arrived. If I had remembered . . . I would have, but . . . I just don't seem to be thinking to clearly these days. I stand and wince again at the numb swelling in my legs. I don't remember when the last time I walked . . . it could have been days ago. I hobble outside and for the first time maybe ever . . . I notice, what a beautiful day it is. The sun is warm and too- bright on my face, makes me feel lazy and sedated. Marvel at the azurite hue in the sky, the shadowless clouds. I cluck obligingly at my chocobo and he lifts his head and walks swiftly towards me, eager for greens. My hand reaches up to pet his crested head, there is blood, dirt, and grime caked black under my nails, each tiny impression in my fingerprints inundated with filth. The joints in my fingers stand out sharply . . . bones and swollen joints, like a skeleton. The saddle and blanket fall deftly to the ground, begin searching the saddlebag for a brush to straighten the warped feathers on his back. And I feel the soft down beneath my rough touch and smile, imagining silvery wings soft against my cheek. My grin widens . . . soon now. I brush and pet and turn the bird loose to continue grazing. It joins Vincent's and I never think of it again. But while searching for the brush I'd stumbled upon the little book and pen Vincent had given me at Corel. Perhaps this is the best way.  
  
I remember this time . . . I remember every detail, every nuance, stage, pain, delight. Everything is so clear now, and I write it. I'm a hero I guess, and maybe someday history will teach of the truth, what I will record here now in this journal. I write everything . . . everything about my life. And my hand cramps and I keep writing. Vincent wakes at some point hand seeking to soothe with gentle slide of fingers across my shoulder. I pay him no heed. I write about my mother and Tifa, I write about the trip to Midgar and Zack. The first time I ever saw Sephiroth. I write about my love for him . . . endless pages of my love, every metaphor and cliché I can think of spills from my pen. And then I write about Nibelheim, I spare nothing. Zack, Hojo, Mako. I write about my quest to kill and destroy Sephiroth, I could never explain what exactly happened in my head. Why I wanted kill Him and who I thought I was or why. I just write that I was crazy, always was and still am, and that only a madman would kill the thing he loved the most. Long, flattering descriptions of my comrades, and what histories I know of them. I write about Aeris, and her death, hoping someday she will be the hero and not me. My knuckles crack and pop, I wonder if I could write my hand off, if it would just die and fall to the ground. I take a very brief moment to work the kinks out of my hand. I squint at the sun descending ever westward. Late afternoon haziness has settled in the forest. I gaze around me, and see Vincent asleep fast in the sun near the stream. He is not wearing the crimson swath to cover his hair and face, his boots are off, feet pale and beautiful, smudged with a little wet soil. His pants are torn at the cuff and rolled up to mid-calf. I smile at him, and my pen moves. I draw him, try to capture the peace of the moment. Ever tried to depict regained innocence? It's not easy . . . I guess I manage, and I hold the journal back to look at my work, my eyes are strained and hurt. But I'm not quite done yet.  
  
As I write the final words my pen runs out of ink. "Thank you Vincent, I love you and am happy because of you." I shut the book and leave it in the grass, near the discarded saddlebag. I don't look at Vincent. Rather the stunning red oranges of the sky enthrall me and I walk to the edge of the mountain, and stare far far below at the deep gash in the land. The melding browns and purples of the earth in the waning light. And I hope that one day everyone will know I died happy. I inhale deep the air around me, the very green life in the forest giving me happiness and harmony. I am happy, I think for the first time ever . . . because I know I don't have to do this anymore, not ever. I know that I can finally /rest/. If I stayed, if I thought I had to stay . . . I wouldn't feel this way. I could never continue existing in this place, or any other place on this world. Because if I didn't have this happiness, this knowledge that it will all be over, I'd still be just the same as I always was. Forever and ever tormented and anguished with no light guide me, nothing to save me. But I know I'm going . . . I know what waits for me at the bottom of the canyon. I jump . . . I'd been wanting to since this morning. And I fall and think of wings. And I fall and think of Him, my one, my only, my Love.  
  
The end... So it took me way too long to write like three paragraphs and I apologize. Infinite thanks to dearest love Holland acted as a pseudo muse and editor and kinda smacked me around a bit to make me write. I hope everyone enjoyed this and if theres confusion just write me or IM me or that good shit. I might write something again if so provoked. Review also, must get 100 review . . . must.  
Bail 


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